THE RED of remembrance poppies flicks to the red of Gaza’s streets and I hold the television remote feeling helpless.
In between the two events sits a century, 100 years of change in so many ways.
Apart from one, it would seem.
The footage may be in colour and the weapons may have got bigger, but the stakes are the same – innocent people killed in the name of politics.
‘Lest we forget‘ was meant to be a warning and a promise – that we would not let the horror repeat.
But for it to repeat, it has to stop, which I don’t believe it ever has.
Has there ever been a day when a life hasn’t been taken at the hands of another?
Perhaps that is asking too much.
Can we find an hour in the world where there has been peace?
We speak of the lessons we have learnt but, for all I can see, we’ve just got better at death.
It seems it will only end when there is no-one left to push the button or pull the trigger.
These bloody battles impact on us all, generations on.
The millions killed left children fatherless and wives as widows.
While right now Gaza’s rockets are not being as selective.
Both blur together, with other fruitless fights which see mankind lose more than it will ever gain.
How can this still be the story?
We’ve been to the moon since 1914. Our ancestors had telegrams, we have text messages.
Women can vote and roads have more hatchbacks than horses.
As humans, we are all part of the story, whether we huddle in shelters or watch from our sitting rooms.
And I feel a responsibilty.
I want to shout ‘stop!’
We light candles and rerun archive footage of a war while another still rages...
In 2114 will our great-great-great-grandchildren be doing the same?