Memorials

Think of a mountain of corpses maybe 6000 feet high. I'm just guessing, but big, very big.There would be fresh snow on the mangled bodies at the very top while the bleached bones toward the bottom bake in the heat. These are the mostly men who killed one another, shot , stabbed, bombed, gassed, burned, crushed each other and were themselves destroyed in turn. The other mountain next to it is the pile of corpses of the innocent, mostly women and children, caught up in the terror of war. Collateral damage, as it were.You have to tilt your head and look way up to see the top. Mostly killed from way up high and faraway. This would be one big mountain as well, stretching way above tree line.We should also keep in our memories those who survived but whose lives were irrevocably altered, by being maimed bodily or mentally or through the loss or damage of a loved one, friend, comrade. That could also be quite a mountain, a mountain of grief and sorrow. What should we call this mountain range? The mighty Kill Ourselves? The Kill Our Own Children Range? The Great Human Follies? Oceans of blood, mountains of bones, a memory we are relieved to escape from. But a Memorial Day, or a Memorial Minute, should be a time when we all look up at those mountains and ask why.