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*
For many English speaking countries poppies are a sign for death, but in Flanders the poppy is a sign of conquering life.
When the grass, weeds or flowers are taken away from a place the first thing which seems to come up and give colour again on the land is the poppy. Out of the gruesomeness it is there to give a nice vivid colour giving hope for what still shall come and giving proof that life is stronger than everything that wants to silence it.