They are standing together, the widows of our history, with the widows of our time, and they ask that you remember. Remember their fallen loved ones, now sitting in a bedside frame. Remember the men and women, who didn’t make it home. Remember the man of nineteen who now lies sleeping, side by side, shoulder to shoulder with the man of thirty. Both lie nameless, the private and the officer, a boy next to a man. In death all are equal, all are lost. We, the living, ask that you remember, a voice for the dead. Remember the history, remember the wrongs. As a new generation march on by, heads held high, spare a thought for their loved ones, spare a thought for them. What ever your politics, what ever your beliefs. Forget to remember and you forget to learn. History will repeat herself, in till she is heard, in till she is remembered. Remember that tomorrow follows on from today, you are the history of children, waiting in the dark. Remember with a flower, remember with your silence. Remember.


About Rebecca Windsor

I'm an actor and writer living in London. View all posts by Rebecca Windsor

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