Anzac Day

I was just reading today's local paper. There were several pages of letters from locals about what Anzac Day means to them.
According to Wikipedia:

"Anzac Day is a national day of remembrance in Australia and New Zealand, and is commemorated by both countries on 25 April every year to honour members of the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps (ANZAC) who fought at Gallipoli in Turkey during World War I. It now more broadly commemorates all those who died and served in military operations for their countries. Anzac Day is also observed in the Cook Islands, Niue, Samoa and Tonga."

One of the letter writers sent a poem written by his father about a brave man of long ago pinning his medals and marching, as he did years ago. The poem recognises the age of those heroes, who will not be around to put on those medals much longer.

It is all the more important, as they pass on, to never forget. Humans are clearly capable of committing terrible atrocities, but there is also something in us that longs for something more. Looking back almost 90 years after WWI, we remember those who gave their all. We also remember the ideals of freedom and hope, and recognise the great bravery and courage those men and women displayed. We will not let these things die in our hearts.

In the words of Canadian John McCrae:

"In Flanders fields the poppies grow
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."

Each one of us holds that torch. Let us ever hold it high.