Rabbi David Kunin, Congregation Beth David
When we visited the site of the Nova massacre there were red anemones everywhere. It brought to mind the poem In Flanders Field. The pictures of the young people and the rows of trees planted in their memory brought forth feelings of sadness and futility. They were there celebrating life, the natural world, and rejecting hatred. Their fight continues. Senseless hatred is the real enemy. It will not vanish even when Hamas is defeated, unless we transform all hearts.
This is my take on the original poem by Canadian John McCrae one of the War Poets. He died in 1918. My apologies to the poet for my emendations.
In Novas Field
In Novas Fields, the anemones grow
Between the trees 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 Novas 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 anemones grow
I n Novas fields.
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