From Flanders To Helmland By Brian Cloughley

I
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
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.

-Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, Canadian Army, 1915

In Helmand's fields the poppies blow
Between the craters, row on row,
That mark the bedlam; in the sky
The drones, still whistling, blitzing, fly
Scarce heard amid the screams below.

We are the Maimed and Dead. Short days
Ago we lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, but suffered hell
In Helmand's fields.

We are limbless, mentally
Disturbed, deserted and forgot
By most save army charities.
You've broken faith with those who died

And none of you should sleep,
Though poppies grow
In Helmand's fields

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