I meant to write this earlier, and then was going to skip it because it was “so late” and my words weren’t coming out proper, but that would be as if I were silent.

I can not be silent. They deserve more. There is much I am silent on each day for one excuse or another, none are better than trivial.

I’ll use a photo and words more eloquent than my own to express what I cannot…

poppy, photo 2In Flanders Fields
by John McCrae, May 1915

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep,
though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

A few other words by others:
Stephanie Pearl-McPhee, 2008
Wil Wheaton, 2008
Carolyn of Juggling Frogs, 2007

To this I add my humble “Thank you”.