Remembrance

The cows in the pasture
The birds on wing,
The yellow scrub-brush underfoot
Life rising from the fields of chaos.
The dark-dotted sky
The crater-pocked earth

Long ago, (or almost yesterday),
A landing of vast proportions
Anguish and death led to thousands of crosses
Lined up geometrically in a row,
Lovingly tended by two nations.

We will never know what would have come if they had not come
To turn this peaceful beach into a bloody inferno. 
Their parachutes, their tanks, their guns and their bodies 
Lay discarded upon this sandy expanse. 
A dreadful exchange for them to make
In order for a world on fire to turn towards peace.

The cows, the birds, the flowers,
They have no memory of such things.
And we, we turn towards the living 
And marvel from the bus window at the rapeseed filling the fields 
With the most brilliant of yellow hues. 
And in the midst of our living we forget.
We forget to utter our prayers of thanks

Omaha Beach

Normandy, France

April 25, 2025