Tuesday, July 19, 2005

MH - Potter's Field

Haven't read Harry Potter. Don't plan to. I don't think it's the timeless kind of writing that has equal merit for both adults and children.

But other than that I don't have much of an opinion. Did the Pope condemn it? Is it the work of the devil? Or is it a fanciful tale of good and evil, the secret to introducing the joys of reading to children? Don't know. Don't really care, either. But as a blogger, I probably owe it to you, dear readers, to say something about it. So I'll say this - read Amy for some good viewpoints, and links to other stories.

But here's an example of how the mind (well, mine at least - "You're telling us!" you reply) moves in odd ways: I knew I'd need a title for this post, preferably something clever. First thing to pop into my mind was the phrase I used above, "Potter's Field." As soon as that appeared, I immediately thought of another, much better piece of writting: one of my favorite poems, the moving "In Flanders Fields." That's where the idea of poppies on Memorial Day and Veterans' Day comes from, by the way. So I'll leave you with that, if for no other reason than I doubt any other blogger has been able to connect J.K. Rowling and John McCrae.
In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

I wonder if the children dead from abortion ever feel this way. And, if they do, how many of us listen?

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