It's called Shady Nook, and it's down a little used road, next to the town's sewage plant. Nothing much to look at except dead, dry grass, dead leaves and bare earth. Trash and broken bottles, discarded cups, used condoms, and such lie besides graves. There doesn't seem to be much order in the arrangements of the graves. Random crosses with no inscriptions. No names, just prison numbers mark the final resting place of a dead inmate. Who cares? Isn't this the final indignity?
Here is a wooden cross made from two pieces of wood just taped together with "RIP" written in marker. We have taken away a name and made this human being a number. Here lies the proof.
What does this say about us, our society, our civilization?
Lord, have mercy on us.
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