Nearly 100 years ago, Canadian soldier and poet John McCrae sat in the back of an ambulance and began to write. His close friend Alexis Helmer had just been killed in the Second Battle of Ypres. As he was performing the burial service, John noticed how poppies quickly grew around those who had died. The next day, he scribbled down a poem, intermittently glancing over at his friend’s grave. However, he not happy with his work and discarded it, until a fellow member of his unit recovered the piece of paper and insisted him to publish. Today, “In Flanders Fields” is one of the most recognised and beloved war poems of all time.

The poem is written from the eyes of the dead. It gives voice to the fallen soldiers’ sacrifice and their final orders to the living. It lies at the the transition of death and life; it is a testament of courage, love, and great hope.

 In Flanders Fields
    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.