In Flanders Field

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

Bless You

I do not know your name ~
Nor for which battle you died.
I do not know your home,
Nor the tears that were cried.

I do not know where you rest ~
Nor the promises broken.
I do not know your uniform
And your fears lay unspoken.

But, I know your spirit exists ~
That your courage is admired,
And your sacrifice is honored
By each soul that’s inspired.

And I offer you from my heart
Thank you, to guardians unknown
For offering yourselves for us all
That we may keep freedom…
Our home.
Bless you.
~ Sherri Ball

In Flanders Fields

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