Tracey Washington-lacy

“Lest we forget, we say, Bonox Baker said. Isn’t that what we say, sir? We do, Bonox. Or incant. Perhaps it’s not quite the same thing. So that’s why it should be saved. So it’s not forgotten. Do you know the poem, Bonox? It’s by Kipling. It’s not about remembering. It’s about forgetting—how everything gets forgotten. Far-called, our navies melt away; On dune and headland sinks the fire: Lo, all our pomp of yesterday Is one with Nineveh and Tyre! Judge of the Nations, spare us yet, Lest we forget—lest we forget! Dorrigo Evans nodded to a pyre maker to set the bamboo alight. Nineveh, Tyre, a God-forsaken railway in Siam, Dorrigo Evans said, flame shadows tiger-striping his face. If we can’t remember that Kipling’s poem was about how everything gets forgotten, how are we going to remember anything else? A poem is not a law. It’s not fate. Sir. No, Dorrigo Evans said, though for him, he realised with a shock, it more or less was.”
― Richard Flanagan, The Narrow Road to the Deep North