field-of-poppies-2-1236523-mI’m currently reading Viktor E. Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning, which offers his perspective, as a psychiatrist and prisoner, of being in a concentration camp during World War II. His stories of the incredible evils inflicted on millions of people are astonishing, as are the stories of survival and courage.

The distance of time and geography make it easy to forget what so many fought for during the war. In the same way, the preoccupations of life make it easy to forget the things that are still worth fighting for.

Today, we remember.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
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.

– John McCrae

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