IN THE SHADOW OF THE POPPIES

'In The Shadow of the Poppies'. © Copyright Magda Indigo

 

 

Raised surrounded by the remnants of war.

In the landscape, whether it be coastal or inland.

In the people, whether it be story or silence.

 

This delicate flower is part of my youth,

Bright red.

 

The child in me attracted,

Picking it to offer or cherish, only to find it extremely ephemeral.

 

The young woman I became,

Lesson learnt, loved running in those colourful fields,

Not enjoying the stains poppies left on a favourite dress.

 

The young mother I became,

Teaching her sons,

Trying to protect them from the disappointment of the fast wilting flower, the stains, the symbolism...

 

Now, I'm older and wiser,

More tolerant and more intolerant.

 

Now, I am back, they greet me, gently moving with the wind.

 

I just stand; take in the beauty with a smile around my lips,

And let the echoes of the past swirl behind my eyes.

 

 

I grew up in Flanders in the shadow of the poppies, remembrance of the wars never far away. Everywhere you go, there are graveyards, English, American, Canadian, Polish, South-African, Australian...

As a child, it is just part of the countryside, pretty, neat rows of stones and flowers.

Then, the age of awareness comes, you want to know and understand.

The adults'd rather not talk about it, their gaze becoming distant and full of sorrow and hidden, unspoken suffering.

A 'natural' follow-up to yesterday's, thanx, M, (*_*)

 

EVEN BETTER... View On Black

 

For more see here:

magdaindigo.blogspot.com/2007/06/in-shadow-of-flanders-po...

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