(A Remembrance Day poem written by a Bow Valley High School student, which was performed during the school’s Nov. 9 ceremony)
My father has always loved history,
For as long as I can remember,
And, he’s always been drawn back to,
What we think of now, in November.
Ever since, I was a little girl,
We’ve had books upon the shelves,
About Generals and Commanders,
Battlefields and shells.
And when I reached a certain age,
I began sneaking into that room,
To gaze upon all the titles,
That spoke of glory, and of gloom.
And I would steal one, without asking,
Secretly: as if it were wrong,
And then I would curl up somewhere,
And read for hours long.
And so from that age, I became,
Consumed with the need to know,
The stories of the men and women,
Of the land where poppies grow.
Who were they? These brave young lads,
Who signed on to protect the king,
A king who lived an ocean away,
And yet for him they’d sing.
And so with their grand passion,
They sailed from their homeland,
The women worked, became nurses,
Healing the wrath of War’s cruel hand.
And when I think of them, I feel so
much pride,
Sometimes a tear I feel and see,
Yet, despite this, I find I cannot,
Claim to be evil: their enemy.
For, in my family tree,
There are two branches strong,
And they each shape my perspective,
For I had family on both sides of the
Somme.
My mother is German,
Meaning my great-great grandfathers by Fate,
Were fighting each other, a near century ago,
In a war that we call Great.
I do not condemn, one for killing,
Nor do I idolize the other,
For when it boils down to it,
They were all truly brothers.
They were men doing their duty,
Facing the same terrors, and the same
pain,
The loss of friends, the order obeyed,
All this in their country’s name.
So when I take, that book to read,
I keep an open mind,
And pin a poppy, in honour,
Of those on both sides of the line.
Josie Neven-Pugh
