The snows of 1916 freeze on the spirits they know now as cemetery friends.
Men dreamed greatly of empire back then, and had inner glories tattooed on hearts of patriotic certainties.
My generation slowly learned of the price those men paid for their love.
And when we walked across those Suffolk fields, silence told truths to our hearts that only God could know.
It was like the ghosts of those who were left behind on Flanders fields possessed us, and our hearts beat together.
When I look long at the Lindsey Lowlands, even after all these years, I still hear the voice of Solider Billy Carter say, “ If I had to die for something well, why not this?”
I dream for him of a home in the Lindsey lowlands, from another war zone called Essex, where the fight is on for the soul of England, and childhood is for sale to the highest bidder.
I pray for those children and the coming generation, to know with body mind and spirit the price of a home in the Lindsey Lowlands.