I had wanted to write something about orange for this post, sparked by the situation in the Ukraine and how struck I was in 2004/5 when they underwent the Orange Revolution. But the situation is far too serious for musings on the originality of orange as a colour for revolution. So I will leave that until the country is safer.
Instead I am most proud to share a poem written by my 15-year-old God-daughter. She read my first post of this year, ‘RED is BLOOD and LOVE and WAR and COMMEMORATION‘ and promptly sent me a piece of her writing in response. I find it very moving and taut with powerful imagery.
The tracks down the homebound road
Soldiers boots, wars final tread
A struggle through the early snow,
A veil covering the dead.
A blur, a blizzard through the soldier’s eyes.
Some have none at all
For in their ears ring battle cries.
Dreams shall haunt them til they fall
Down sweeping hills flows old war blood
Say rumours and whispers in the wind and waves
But restless soldiers in deep slumber
Are haunted by the ones they could not save
The war sits embedded on British turf
Then comes the season that melts the snow
From the blood that soaks the earth
The soldiers live on in the poppies that grow
In a crowd of unrecognisable faces
Spies the naked eye a cluster of red
Pinned to each coat is a poppy
A flower to remember the brave and the dead.
At a time when our country seems to be stiff with broadcasts about the centenary of The Great War, ‘The War to End War‘, I mourn that human beings have not learned that lust for territorial ownership is the sign of an unevolved nation. But maybe with the creative energy of youth such as that of my God-daughter, the world will learn …