Birth of a Poppy
There are many pictures of fields of poppies and individual poppies, but I've never seen a picture of a poppy as it's emerging from its cocoon like a beautiful butterfly, about to stretch its wings. These striking flowers have been used since early Greek and Roman times as symbols of sleep and death, probably because of the opium associated with poppies. But ironically they are also viewed as symbols of resurrection. In addition, poppies are worn as a remembrance for our veterans, possibly as a result of the poem, "In Flanders Fields" by Canadian Officer and Surgeon Lt. John McCrae upon attending the funeral of his friend in 1919 in the fields of Flanders:
In Flanders fields the poppies grow
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.
With this poppy, perhaps we can pause a moment to remember those who fought for freedom and held the torch high!
Birth of a Poppy
There are many pictures of fields of poppies and individual poppies, but I've never seen a picture of a poppy as it's emerging from its cocoon like a beautiful butterfly, about to stretch its wings. These striking flowers have been used since early Greek and Roman times as symbols of sleep and death, probably because of the opium associated with poppies. But ironically they are also viewed as symbols of resurrection. In addition, poppies are worn as a remembrance for our veterans, possibly as a result of the poem, "In Flanders Fields" by Canadian Officer and Surgeon Lt. John McCrae upon attending the funeral of his friend in 1919 in the fields of Flanders:
In Flanders fields the poppies grow
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.
With this poppy, perhaps we can pause a moment to remember those who fought for freedom and held the torch high!