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11 November 2011 @ 05:13 pm
When You Go Home, Tell Them Of Us And Say, For Their Tomorrow, We Gave Our Today
sgamadison: EnigmaRodneysgamadison on November 11th, 2011 05:26 pm (UTC)
With an Identity Disc

If ever I dreamed of my dead name
High in the heart of London, unsurpassed
By Time for ever, and the Fugitive, Fame,
There seeking a long sanctuary at last,

I better that; and recollect with shame
How once I longed to hide it from life's heats
Under those holy cypresses, the same
That shade always the quiet place of Keats,

Now rather thank I God there is no risk
Of gravers scoring it with florid screed,
But let my death be memoried on this disc.
Wear it, sweet friend. Inscribe no date nor deed.
But may thy heart-beat kiss it night and day,
Until the name grow vague and wear away.

Wilfred Owen

*hugs you*

Edited at 2011-11-11 05:27 pm (UTC)
the_cephalopodthe_cephalopod on November 11th, 2011 06:02 pm (UTC)
*hugs you back*

F and I were in the playground at 11am this morning. She was playing in the sand, moving it from one part of the sand pit to the other. I watched her as I marked the 2 minutes silence and felt so incredibly grateful to all the people who have made it possible for her (and me) to be here - safe and loved - and what it has cost them. There are no words.

sgamadison: Jessie2sgamadison on November 11th, 2011 07:57 pm (UTC)
What a peaceful moment you describe here--and what a lovely tribute to those who have sacrificed to make it possible. :-)