In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row...
I'm not a very political person but this poem has always moved me and I usually see some reference to it on various days of remembrance for our war dead, such as Memorial Day (which seems to be not much more than a day to have a picnic for most people, including myself). There is a rawness to it that grabs me even when I'm not in the mood for poetry, especially this line:
We are the dead. Short days ago
I just read an editorial in The Week magazine about how the news media in this country is not publishing photos of our war dead. The news is too negative, it seems, so editors don't want to turn away even more readers with too much realism. That is just pathetic. We're so isolationist that we're isolating ourselves from our own war dead now. Dead? What dead? Bush's new slogan about the war in Iraq should be "I don't see dead people."
I heard part of dorkboy's--I mean, the President's--speech today, and he said something about how of course he has always believed that diplomacy is the best way to solve conflict. I wanted to yak. In pink on his shoes. Just the way he said "of course" was so lame, it was like Lady Macbeth, you know, methinks the lady (dorkboy) doth protest too much??