Memorial Day
Grass by Carl Sandburg
PILE the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo.
Shovel them under and let me work—
I am the grass; I cover all.
And pile them high at Gettysburg
And pile them high at Ypres and Verdun.
Shovel them under and let me work.
Two years, ten years, and passengers ask the conductor:
What place is this?
Where are we now?
I am the grass.
Let me work.
For all those under the grass, and those yet above it who made a difference- and everyone made a difference who served or serves still:
Remember.

Of all of those places in the poem, the only one that I have been to is Gettysburg.
There is nothing like blood to make a place sacred.
have a good memorial day og.
That’s beautiful.
Thanks, Og.