I'm not normally the sort of person who dwells excessively on sadness - it does bad things to my rather dominant empathetic side - but today is one of those days when I permit myself to do just that. Despite being from an army family, spending three years in the Combined Cadet Force, and supporting the defence of the world against terrorists, I am no supporter of war.
Two years ago, I treated you all to a poem called Soldier. It's an older work of mine, but it's probably one of the ones I am most proud of. The execution is a little wonky, and it's definitely not as polished as much of my newer work, but I don't really care. Because that's not what this poem is for. I didn't write it with the intention of it being a polished, smooth piece of perfectly-crafted lyricism. I wrote it because I meant what I wrote.
There's something beautiful in the simplicity of emotion.
But Remembrance Day isn't just about showing emotion - it's about internal thought as well. Remembrance, to be exact.
Remembrance doesn't need much.
It doesn't need ten-page elegies.
It doesn't need banners and bands and firing cannons into chilly blue mornings.
It doesn't need the crowds, or the public declarations, or the month-long television specials.
It doesn't even need words at all.
All remembrance needs is a heart to hold it.
And maybe a voice or two, to pass it on.