20/09/2026
So, much earlier than usual, Remembrance begins. It gets earlier every year and the sad thing is, it's only for commercial gain.
Poppies of both colours,
Clothing,
Posts to inspire donations...
I NEVER served!
I cannot connect in the way that those who did, must feel!
I have no personal reference in this season!
But my heart and soul are in debt to ALL those who did and continue to do so ππ»
My / Our devotion to Remembrance, is based on historical loss and a connection to those we know in the military family who have experienced first hand, the cost of war and conflict.
So to end the week and reflect on what lies ahead, a dear friend's views in poetry must be shared! Because although we can NEVER know, we can learn so much about what these guys sacrificed for us π₯Ίβ€οΈππ»
I Made It Home
Jaime Garner
The poppies start appearing now,
The solemn words return once more,
And people make their yearly vow
To honour those who went to war.
I watch the tributes slowly grow,
As autumn turns the leaves to gold,
But there are names I'll always know,
And stories that don't need retold.
For I don't need November's rain
To bring those missing faces near,
I carry them through joy and pain,
Through every month of every year.
I made it home. They did not all.
A truth that never leaves my side,
For some came back when duty called,
And some forever stayed behind.
We knew them more than names in stone,
More than a photograph displayed,
We knew the lives they should have known,
The future plans they never made.
We knew their laughter, knew their ways,
The jokes that only we would know,
The endless nights, the longest days,
And places only we could go.
And now the flags begin to fly,
The practiced words begin to start,
While strangers tell the world just why
Remembrance matters to their heart.
And most, I know, sincerely care,
They bow their heads and speak their name,
But others only gather there
When recognition comes the same.
For suddenly the loudest stand
Where silence might have meant much more,
With poppies proudly held in hand,
Then vanish when the month is o'er.
That's why this season troubles me,
Though still I'll stand when bugles sound,
For sacrifice is not something
That only matters once around.
Remember them when springtime grows,
When summer fills an August sky,
When nobody wears poppy rows,
And no parade is passing by.
Remember families left behind,
Who carry absence every day,
Remember those with troubled minds
Who brought their battles home to stay.
Remember those who still wake late
To memories they cannot explain,
Who made it through the camp and gate,
But carried something home again.
So wear your poppy. Wear it proud.
Stand quietly when bugles play,
But honour doesn't need a crowd,
And memory needs more than a day.
For those we lost deserve far more
Than fleeting words when autumn comes,
Their names belong on every shore,
Long after silent fall the drums.
And I will stand, as I have done,
Among the living, growing old,
Remembering every missing one,
And every story left untold.
Because I made it home somehow,
While others never made it through,
And that's why remembrance, even now,
Is not one day.
It's what we do.
*Credit Jaime Garner image and prose*
Thank you on behalf of those who weren't part of your world... ππ»