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March: On Death
March 29
Today's reflection was inspired by the song "The Green Fields of France" by Eric Bogle.
You can study it, write about it, protest it, loathe it, but it seems that from the beginning and at least until this point in time, that it has always been with us. That violence and death at scale are a part of humanity despite grand and sweeping declarations of peace. Or despite the fact that World War I was supposed to be the war to end wars.
No matter what, it always seems to creep back in from the shadows to happen again, and again, and again, and again.
Is it possible? To have a world without war? I don’t know. Perhaps it is just the way it was, is, and will be. But at the very least, we don’t have to accept that. We can hope and do everything in our power, however small or big, to work toward seeing the end of it—to work toward never having to stumble across a field of white crosses or old faded photos of the Willie McBrides of war.
By Eastin DeVernaMarch: On Death
March 29
Today's reflection was inspired by the song "The Green Fields of France" by Eric Bogle.
You can study it, write about it, protest it, loathe it, but it seems that from the beginning and at least until this point in time, that it has always been with us. That violence and death at scale are a part of humanity despite grand and sweeping declarations of peace. Or despite the fact that World War I was supposed to be the war to end wars.
No matter what, it always seems to creep back in from the shadows to happen again, and again, and again, and again.
Is it possible? To have a world without war? I don’t know. Perhaps it is just the way it was, is, and will be. But at the very least, we don’t have to accept that. We can hope and do everything in our power, however small or big, to work toward seeing the end of it—to work toward never having to stumble across a field of white crosses or old faded photos of the Willie McBrides of war.