The Citizen’s front page on Saturday was a dramatic photo by Bruno Schlumberger of the National War Memorial at dusk on Friday, with a poem by Canadian author Alan Cumyn.
I Know That Land
I know that land.
I stood there years ago
and watched the tears on Nana’s face
as she remembered a man she’d never met
who died in April, 1917
I know that land.
My eldest daughter sang there dressed in red and white
that was her face the camera found
her voice we all heard
I know that land.
I wore a uniform once, I know
what it is to stand so very still
against the wind to show respect
in a human sea
wondering about humanity
I know those rooms.
I walked there free not long ago
and shook the hand of a minister
who did not make me feel afraid
he heard me out, he said the things
politicians say.
All right, he lied.
But they were civil lies
and in the end he got his chance to vote
and I got mine
we disagreed
I did not cannonade those halls
or threaten to behead him
I know those rooms
where the carvers’ faces still peer down
I know that green
I’ve stood free to watch the lights
against the black of the northern sky
I strolled these grounds with visitors
warmed my hands, sang out loud
I know this land.
The blood is new, the blood is old,
I will stand there again in a human sea
I know these rooms
I know this land.
- Alan Cumyn, Ottawa
