Will It Be So Again?

 Seem to be on a bit of a poetry kick at the moment. Yesterday, wandering around a local town, I spotted the name of the local pharmacy - Day Lewis, and it reminded me that I haven't featured any of his works here. This is one of his most meaningful for me, and with it being only a couple of months until Remembrance Day looms large, and the probability of a general election next year, now may be the time to beg people to really think hard before casting their votes.

So anyway, here it is: Will It Be So Again? , written by Sir Cecil Day Lewis 

Will it be so again

that the brave, the gifted are lost from view,

and empty, scheming men

are left in peace their lunatic age to renew?

Will it be so again?

 

Must it be always so

that the best are chosen to fall and sleep

like seeds, and we too slow

in claiming the earth they quicken, and the old usurpers reap

what they could not sow?

 

Will it be so again -

the jungle code and the hypocrite gesture?

A poppy wreath for the slain

and a cut-throat world for the living? That stale imposture

played on us once again

 

Will it be as before -

peace, with no heart or mind to ensue it,

guttering down to war

like a libertine to his grave? We should not be surprised: we knew it

happen before.

 

Shall it be so again?

Call not upon the glorious dead

to be your witness then.

The living alone can nail their promise to the ones who said

it shall not be so again.

The futility of war.

Please take the time to read this article:

My father threw his poppy awaiy in disgust

That's one of the most honest articles I've read amongst all the dross that's currently being spouted. As a pacifist, I deplore war and aggression. Surely history has shown that it solves nothing? It's all very well saying 'we should remember them, so that it never happens again' - but it did, little more than 2 decades later, and it continues to happen, and so will it ever be, because man, like most animals, is territorial and naturally aggressive to perceived threats.

I spend quite a bit of time doing genealogical research on mine and my husband's family history, and there's two people that serve to always remind me of the true inequality of war. My grandfather was a humble gardener, who rose up through the ranks and became a highly decorated soldier, ending up as an aide to the Duke of York, later King George VI. On the other hand was my husband's Uncle John - sent home from the front as being 'unfit for service'. He was castigated by his family, and indeed the whole village where he lived, for being a coward. Three weeks later, he committed suicide. Of course, we now understand that he was suffering from PTSD (shell shock). Nobody mourns him. Enough is enough. Let them all rest in peace.