Remembrance Day: More Than a Moment of Silence

From Newfoundland’s rugged shores to British Columbia’s western sea,
Across the fields of prairie gold, where autumn breezes blow,
Through Quebec’s old villages, where generations came to know,
That freedom isn’t something given, it was earned for you and me.

They left behind the ones they loved, the lives they might have known,
Some barely old enough to shave, some fathers, husbands, sons,
They marched beneath a maple leaf, not knowing what they’d done,
For strangers yet unborn, so we would never stand alone.

Some never made it home again, their stories left untold,
No final kiss, no last embrace, no chance to say goodbye,
Their mothers learned to live with grief, their fathers wondered why,
While somewhere, in a quiet home, an empty chair grew cold.

And those who did return to us brought battles of their own,
Some wounds were never visible, some memories never died,
They smiled and said they were just fine, with all their pain inside,
And carried what the world could never see, long after coming home.

Today we wear a poppy, pause, and bow our heads in pride,
We honour those who paid the price, the fallen and the brave,
But remembrance isn’t measured by the flowers that we gave,
It’s how we treat each other when there’s no one watching by our side.

So when the final bugle fades and another year has passed,
Remember what their sacrifice has given us today,
For freedom isn’t ours to keep if we let its meaning slip away,
We owe them more than just a moment. We must make their courage last.

A final thought:
Remembrance Day should never become an annual appointment with our conscience. The poppy is a symbol, the silence is a tribute, but how we live with the freedom they left us is perhaps the greatest thank-you we can ever offer.