Today, 25th April is the anniversary of the landing of Australian and New Zealand troops at Gallipoli during WW1.

2015 marks the centenary of this event and the various commemorative events have attracted huge interest and some of the largest crowds ever.

I did not attend any formal gathering but did spend time reflecting on the service of men and women in all conflicts.  As well as those who made the ultimate sacrifice, let us not forget the prisoners-of-war and those whose lives were curtailed by physical and psychological wounds and their families.

It seems that there is barely a family who has not been touched by war.  Social media has been awash with posts as many seek to share their stories.  One post led me to find this poem.  The final two lines are a stark reminder.

A Poem for Remembrance Day

Why are they selling poppies, Mummy?
Selling poppies in town today.
The poppies, child, are flowers of love.
For the men who marched away.

But why have they chosen a poppy, Mummy?
Why not a beautiful rose?
Because my child, men fought and died
In the fields where the poppies grow.

But why are the poppies so red, Mummy?
Why are the poppies so red?
Red is the colour of blood, my child.
The blood that our soldiers shed.

The heart of the poppy is black, Mummy.
Why does it have to be black?
Black, my child, is the symbol of grief.
For the men who never came back.

But why, Mummy are you crying so?
Your tears are giving you pain.
My tears are my fears for you my child.
For the world is forgetting again.

Lest we forget.