I feel WWI as a very sensitive subject, since my grandfather fought there and truly believed it was the "war to end all wars." When WWII happened, and he knew his son was going over to fight, he got sick and died. I think it broke his heart to know his son would endure what he went through.
I offer this today. It is placed at the beginning of the book Maisie Dobbs by Jacqueline Winspear. Winspear writes:
"Final verse "Disabled," by Wilfred Owen. It was drafted at Craiglockhart, a hospital for shell-shocked officers, in October 1917. Owen was killed on November 4, 1918, just one week before the armistice."
Heart-breaking, isn't it, and our government continues to stamp along, and the tragedy of war continues to break legs, arms, and hearts.
Here is the final verse of "Disabled."
Now he will spend a few sick years in institutes,
And do what things the rules consider wise,
And take whatever pity they may dole.
Tonight he noticed how the women's eyes
Passed from him to the strong men that were whole.
How cold and late it is! Why don't they come
And put him to bed? Why don't they come?
- Wilfred Owen
Haunting, isn't it? It is for each of us to ask, Why don't we come to the rescue of peace?