Remember.

He lies on his bed, sweating again. The
old nightmare is back, the memories of the
fallen and the blood-soaked fields still fresh and
clean, almost as if he relives it every night.

Every night he sees them, his fallen comrades.
They haunt him with their words, their pleas
for remembrance. He cries for them, for all that
they ever fought for, all that was so nearly lost.

He tries to forget them, but finds that he can’t.
His stories of loss and pain are told worldwide,
but he still finds no relief from the unending torment
of his own private demons.

He says that it’s important to remember the wars
because then we can make sure that our children never
repeat our mistakes. He wants us to realise that the pain of
yesterday isn’t the pain of today or tomorrow.

He tells us about the past so that we can ensure
a better future for our children, and for their children.
He doesn’t ask for world peace, just that we remember the
sacrifice made by so many, for so few.

He lies on his bed, dreaming again.
The ghosts of his past are no longer despairing.
They are at rest, safe in the knowledge that
we will remember their love and sacrifice for everyone.