I am bemused by those who talk their way through life... like the archetypal tourist who only sees the landmarks they visit through the lens of a camera, there are some who seem to isolate themselves from the real impact of reality by constantly commentating on it... to my eyes, shying away from allowing moments of exquisite beauty or sadness, love or pain to really reach them by hiding behind a waterfall of words, words, words and more words.
I've always considered poetry to be a bit the same... the escapist waffling of those unable to really swallow what they experience, able only to experience it through a cathartic self-exposure on the page...
That is, unless it has something to do with war...
War poetry does something to me that I can't describe. It tears me open to my most emotionally raw and then paddles about in the wet bits...
Take this for example:
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.
Perhaps it's because of my family... I only really remember one granddad, but he could not speak of the war that he served in without crying. It was almost as if the intensity of the experience was one that never drained away and was always there ready to overflow at the slightest provocation.
Perhaps it's because I'm an emotional sop... after all, I sobbed like a baby watching 'Marley and Me'... but I'd rather think that there's something healthy about how raw that emotion remained... there was no dulling of the pain, no escape into the forgetfulness of the here-and-how... just a steely commitment to look the memories straight in the eye and remember.
... and that's something that you can't do if you're chattering all the time...
... and it's this that has recently angered those who claim that the original aims of commemorating Armistice day, and the tradition of wearing a poppy... that poignant intensity of the two minutes when the chattering stops, and we commit - year after year - to the idea that 'never again' should life be wasted on such an industrial scale... have been hijacked and turned into a tub-thumping support-fest in which we pledge to stand shoulder to shoulder with those who serve.
It's a bit like subverting the good news of a gospel that demands the 'Martha' engagement with the raw reality of those who are poor, in pain, oppressed, lost... the widows and orphans of the world... and reauthoring it into little more than a self-congratulatory, bustling pat on the back for those who are already quite 'nice'... and would like to be seen by others (particularly other Christians) to be 'nicer'... A gospel that says:
"Let's keep busy... and keep chattering about how well we're doing... and hope the noise drowns out the rawness and brokenness that Jesus would focus on if he were living in our skin and times."
Similarly, the poppy campaign appears to have become one that prefers to talk about what we're doing now, rather than stop and remember the original aim... the war to end all wars.
I have very little patience for conformity... particularly where it twists the original meaning of something away from where it should be...
Which is why, at 11 minutes past 11 today, I will be pinning a poppy to my coat...
... and it will be white.
An interesting piece. I have to admit I hadn't come across white poppies before and had to scan the internet for some background.
ReplyDeleteSeems like people either are for them or against them, a bit like Marmite.
I am not sure where I stand on red poppies versus white poppies. I am not sure I would endorse a pink crossover poppy either.
But I do know I'm grateful for the relatively peaceful land I live in. I'm grateful to those who gave their lives all those years ago. I'm grateful to my two late grandfathers who served in one of the wars.
And I'm free because of someone else's sacrifice.
It's a tough balance to strike. I often struggle when I see the 'heroes welcome' posters, etc. Obviously it is right to acknowledge the sacrifice that people make, and to support those who are now in need because of that.
ReplyDeleteBUT there doesn't seem to ever be a line drawn - as you suggest Mome - between remembering sacrifices made, and supporting current and future conflicts.
I'm not sure exactly where I stand on 'war'. Though I can see that absolute pacifism is difficult to argue for, I definitely will not put my name to current British foreign policy in the Middle East (which could be described as 'warmongering'). Tough issue though.
Wish I had managed to get a white poppy!
@ Oli... my white poppy was made from a business card, put to better use and cunningly adapted with a pair of scissors...
ReplyDelete@ Pop... freedom does seem to come at a price... so I guess maybe the question is "what price is acceptable to gain whatever it is that we think we're gaining...?"