The Guarding Hands of Grieving Hearts

This week I have let the shawl of remembrance drape my exposed soul; the layers of disclosure I have bared are thrust aside.

On a day when the horizon was patchy with amber hues and white streaks, I ventured to a place I often go…the cemetery. It is amongst this man-made land of trees, granite and pillars of marble I am found. Sitting along the rows of names, next to a young lady I have never met, I pay my respects to a friend’s daughter. Initially, the death of our children united us and then over time, our friendship has been built on things unrelated to loss.

When I leave, my car unhurriedly carries on. Driving the narrow lane, I unexpectedly stop to notice the endless white crosses with poppies, thrust into autumn’s ground. Each one signifies those who fought in one or many more wars. 

I reach for my own poppy and placing it on a soldier’s grave — give thanks for my freedom. 

Today, I walked and joined a sea of others; veterans, soldiers, cadets, Royal Canadian Mounted Police and widows in a collaboration of remembrance. 

 

Watching the parade of cadets reminded me of my daughter who was part of the Air cadets for seven years. 

As we stood in silence, I noticed a veteran in front of me. I thought about his battles, the death he had witnessed and the wars his feet had been entrenched in. When Rouse was performed, I saw him stand at attention and raise his hand up in respect. To the left of him was a family gathered and a little brown-haired boy, with dimples. He was no more than 4 years old and watched attentively the veteran in his stance. Wandering over, he did his best to stand straight in front of the military man. In one instant, the little boy captured the veteran’s admiration, when he raised his small hand and saluted the man. I could see the reaction on the elderly man’s face soften as he was overcome with emotion. Those around, including the little boy’s parents were affected by the simple, yet profound gesture.

Shortly after a poem was read aloud.

Back in 2014, Mr. Gordon Moore, Dominion President of The Royal Canadian Legion, announced the winners of the Legion’s Poster and Literary Contest.

Intermediate Poetry winner Jordan Pomeroy of Placentia, Nfld. was amongst those chosen.

Two years later, Jordan’s poem was read today at the Remembrance Day service in Langford, British Columbia.

I Remember…

I remember the fear in my best friend’s eyes, guns firing at our troops.

I saw him cringe as the bullet tore through his body and he fell to the ground.

My vision blurred with disbelieving tears as I fell to my knees by his side.

I looked into his eyes, but they did not look the same.

The eyes of death-that’s what they were.

I remember the natural scent in the air

It should have reminded me of childhood.

The smell of tress, pine and fresh air

But this scent was different.

It was full of smoke, mixed with my best friend’s last breath.

A faint chirping, just like Sunday morning birds,

But it didn’t sound the same.

The sound of death-that’s what it was.

I remember touching my friend’s cold hands and forehead,

My hands disappearing into a cold muddy ground.

The morning dew soaking my uniform

And slow tears rolling down my face.

I remember carrying the body of a man who used to be my best friend

Wishing someone would shoot me.

But he was heavy…he didn’t feel the same.

The weight of death-that’s what it was.

I remember tasting the tears rolling down my face,

The mud seeping through my lips.

The rain falling from the sky like water from a tap.

I remember tasting food at his funeral,

Food that should have been savoury, mouth-watering.

But it didn’t taste like anything.

The taste of death-that’s what it was.

By Jordan Pomeroy

As the three flags on their posts were lifted by a the wind, my thoughts were diverged. I thought of the First World War beginning in 1914 and to our current state of affairs in 2016. In the 102 years that have come to pass and 112, 174 lives lost…what have we really learned about world peace?

Now, lingering in the air, is a genuine fear that threatens to add more lives to wars… yet to be fought.

By TL Alton