The child was born on Memorial Day.
Her parents christened her Hope.
Soon the young father, so full of pride,
Shipped off to war and died.
And so the saddened young bride
Was left with Hope by her side
To get on in the Land of the Free.
And oh what a sight to see!
With each passing birthday -
A time of imagined glee -
The mother told Hope sad stories
Of all those soldiers, dead in glory,
To be counted on Memorial Day.
The child never knew a birthday cake
Without a mournful soldier's story
That would make her cry and shake.
To mark the holiday in school one day
Hope asked her teacher for some paper -
She wished to draw a simple mark
For every soldier who had died
In every war on either side -
The teacher laughed, "Oh silly lark!
Your paper would be miles too long!"
And so Hope's project was denied.
No one can say the hour or day
When Hope passed into song.
For the pain of remembrance,
And the senseless guilt,
Is remarkable in its resemblance
To the Tower of Hope we built.
Deep within that quiet Tower,
With every soldier's death
In every passing hour,
We hide far from the question -
Why them and not me?
And so one fine Memorial Day
No one could hear Hope scream,
"To live with death what will it take?"
And then as if in a fantastic dream
Hope baked herself a birthday cake
And in the hundred candles' gleam
She set herself on fire.
Yes, the consequence is dire -
The one who feels all pain's a liar -
To truly mourn all soldiers dead
Would take up all the days
And burn out life's desire.
Better that we should designate
To remember all, for reason's sake,
One simple holiday.
