Here we lie beneath the poppies
Blowing in the Flanders air
Do not forget our sacrifice
Do not forget that we were there

Young men forged in heat of battle
Neighbors, brothers, sons
Lost in time, with just our markers
Lost to lie, beneath the sun

Remember us as men of valor
Remember what we came to do
We came, and died, do not forget us
We gave our lives up, just for you

Forget us not, beneath the poppies
Where the sky is no longer dark
Remember us as long dead heroes
We came, we fought, we left our mark

Forget us not, please pass the torch on
Forget us not, more than this day
Forget us not, we were all soldiers
And we remain so....all the way!!!

Forget us not....

You know I said to Sylvie that it’s hard to see you with someone else.

No she said I didn’t think it’d matter now. I thought
you were over me.

Yeah well I said I’m fairly sure you said you didn’t love
me anymore. I sigh heavily and massage my neck. It’s ******* sore.

Gods sake I whisper you won’t even look at me.
You never do when we fight. I wanna say more to you.

You know I thought I’ve so much more going
on. The last ******* thing I need is to be thinking
about you this much. I’ve had a headache
for days because of it.

I just want you to kiss me. I now know what
it’s like to be homesick for a person not a place.
You’re my “person.” I take some more pain meds.
I feel like I’ve a tight band around my head.

Just because I am mad doesn’t mean I’m not hurting.

Sylvie looks up for me work and gazes out
the window. The she puts her head down to read.

It’s so frustrating I thought to think you can
just “carry on” when I’m so distracted by all this.

And no, it doesn’t help me to know I said
I was over you and I lied about not being hurt.
I can’t say this to you – it’s futile. I love you.

I eventually walk outside and leave you to work.
And **** you barely notice. I miss you
and you’re sat right there and I’m in the garden.
Now I can see Dog Star. I imagine
the star making me whole and carrying me
home. Homesick for a person not a place.

I whisper to myself I hate you.

Hey where are you honey Sylvie yells.
I thought you wanted me to kiss you.

© Sia Jane

You see,
when I escaped your love
I had rocks tied to my ankles in knots,
and I walked into the lake
barely recognising myself,
just caught up in a memory and replaying
the pain in my head, so numbing that
I detached from anyone else’s love.

I thought love, real love, was about sacrifice.
You fed me lies about true love -
never ending ‘happily ever afters,’
and in my naïve mistaken heart,
I trusted to believe real love meant death -
that true sacrifice was self-sacrifice.

So, dressed in the wedding dress
(I was to wear on Monday)
my hair plated the way you liked it,
your grandma’s emeralds around my neck,
earrings dropping as a pendant, and the ring
on my left hand, I walked.

I walked.
I held tightly onto the bouquet of lilies
(were they not always meant for funerals)
and I stepped into the lake.
Cold water rising up my thighs,
cold water which actually felt more ‘known’
than the unknown land of your love.

I wasn’t even scared.

I’d washed down fear with
a bottle of pain.
I washed down fear with
pills of despair.
I just kept walking.
And the only sound I remember,
is my humming of Beethoven’s Für Elise.
In my mind, I could see you dancing
en pointe- your feet as eloquently poised
as the pianists fingers,
never in a race to finish -
just movements of grace.

And that’s who I am today -
I am the dancer
(Odette and Odile).
My humanity is now outdated -
I too, throw myself into the lake,
and, as I take my final breath
we – you and I, my lover –
are seen flying past the moon.

© Sia Jane

Once upon a time, there was a man who wished to be an ice sculptor. He took a block of ice and a chisel and got straight to work.
He sculpted a woman, as beautiful as any other. He sculpted her to be his perfect complement, the woman he wished was real. He sculpted her with a smile and open arms, with kind eyes and a perfect body.
After he was finished, she was absolutely lovely, and absolutely everything that he had ever wanted his ice sculpture to be.
But then he went on to sculpt other things, and she started to become a further and further thought, distanced from his mind as his other projects became more important.
One day, he realized he'd forgotten all about his first piece of work. She'd started to crack and melt in places, but she was still almost perfect.
Instead of fixing her, the sculptor broke her in pieces with his chisel so he didn't have to worry about fixing her.

1539

Now I lay thee down to Sleep—
I pray the Lord thy Dust to keep—
And if thou live before thou wake—
I pray the Lord thy Soul to make—