Three days before Armistice Sunday
and poppies had already been placed
on individual war graves. Before you left,
I pinned one onto your lapel, crimped petals,
spasms of paper red, disrupting a blockade
of yellow bias binding around your blazer.
Sellotape bandaged around my hand,
I rounded up as many white cat hairs
as I could, smoothed down your shirt's
upturned collar, steeled the softening
of my face. I wanted to graze my nose
across the tip of your nose, play at
being Eskimos like we did when
you were little. I resisted the impulse
to run my fingers through the gelled
blackthorns of your hair. All my words
flattened, rolled, turned into felt,
slowly melting. I was brave, as I walked
with you, to the front door, threw
it open, the world overflowing
like a treasure chest. A split second
and you were away, intoxicated.
After you'd gone I went into your bedroom,
released a song bird from its cage.
Later a single dove flew from the pear tree,
and this is where it has led me,
skirting the church yard walls, my stomach busy
making tucks, darts, pleats, hat-less, without
a winter coat or reinforcements of scarf, gloves.
On reaching the top of the hill I traced
the inscriptions on the war memorial,
leaned against it like a wishbone.
The dove pulled freely against the sky,
an ornamental stitch, I listened, hoping to hear
your playground voice catching on the wind.
The poem, though set in the present day, could refer to any war, from the Great War of 1914-1918, to the Afghan and Iraq wars of the 20th century. It reaches back to the beginning of the Poppy Day tradition. Armistice Day began as a way of marking the end of the First World War, so people could remember the hundreds and thousands of ordinary men who had been killed. Remembrance Sunday remembers those who fell in all wars since then. Jane Weir conflates the two.
When 'Poppies' was written British soldiers were still dying in Iraq and Afghanistan. As a way of expressing the suffering and grief caused by those deaths, the poet laureate Carol Ann Duffy asked a number of writers, including Jane Weir, to compose poems.
It is an interesting fact that neither of Weir's two sons have ever gone to war. However, this poem is about saying a last goodbye and questions who's really the brave one. An interesting comment made by one reader is that the soldier could be a daughter if one applies the story to recent times. If earlier it is more likely to be a son, though it is perhaps too easy to make assumptions.
Jane Weir clearly wished to portray the grief of bereaved mothers. As a mother herself she was able to imagine the feelings of women who had lost a son or daughter. It is a compassionate poem about the wider implications of war, the suffering it causes to those closest to a fallen soldier. We can apply the experience of the woman speaking in this poem to mothers at any place and any time whose offspring have been killed in fighting.
It is not a protest poem. At no point does she express anger at those political and military leaders who initiate and implement war policies, and there is nothing that could be said to be unpatriotic.
Structure - Four stanzas of irregular length; 6, 11, 12 and 6 lines each. It is in free verse with no regular rhyme scheme, though in places there is internal assonant and half rhyme.
Voice - The narrator is not the poet, but an imagined woman. She could represent any woman who has suffered such a war-related loss in any part of the world at any time. It is a dramatic monologue in which the speaker reveals information gradually, and the reader pieces together the story.
The grief of those left behind when a loved-one is killed in conflict.
Motherhood; the impulse to protect a grown son or daughter; to always view them in her mind as a child.
Emotional Suffering; the emotional pain a mother feels when a loved one does not return from a war.