O sun despairing Bound to serve Soften the soil Our last preserve Victory grows not From bloodied dirt But the bones of children Are tipped into the earth Shall they return now To their sleeping valleys To their winter skies And mountains untamed? We tell their stories Neglect their names And farm the fields In which they were slain Scottish songs of divine birth Dark December, Christmas mirth We pursue fleeting comforts To contain nameless hurt Silence the screams Of soldiers buried In the earth The ground beneath us Rises to meet the sky Faceless god God on high Stillness
The fields are flooded, waterlogged since the weekend. Still white tulip blossoms sit like children in the trees beside the dirt road, heads back, mouths stretched wide, waiting for rain.
I just wanted to share this illustration by Shinya Okayama with you. I think it is charming and beautiful, and speaks of a simple compassion for all beings.
Whilst I am a passionate advocate for education, I worry that we are overloading our children with information, and setting expectations that just rob these young minds of their love of learning. As a teacher, I know children who are constantly busy with extra-curricular activities–sports clubs, language exams in the evening, tutoring at weekends. They spend six hours a day with us at school, expected to listen carefully and work hard, and some barely get a chance to breathe before heading off to another class. After-school clubs and hobbies are great, but giving a child space and silence is just