We Burn To Remember

Above, the marker stone erected in 1960.

March 16th is always a solemn day.
The day is 1244 that 224 martyrs were burned en masse at the fields below the castle of Montsegur. At dawn, the were chained together and led down the mountain. Do not believe they went into the fires singing of their of free will. That is some mumbo jumbo made up by a pseudo-historian about 30 years ago. None of the old dossiers speak of such a thing. The villagers will tell you they have heard the chains rattling on the path to the castle at night. I have heard them myself. If anything it was the ward dogs of God, the Inquisitors, who were singing the Veni Creator Spiritus. And until the early 20th century, this day was celebrated in the village of Montsegur by the townsfolk dragging a cross through the streets to the burning fields. There, they would hold hands in a circle and sing the same song. Barbaric superstition? Or arcane magic within the Catholic church to make certain what lay buried, stay buried? It is curious.

Having spent years at the castle, I know a few of its secrets. Things dear to me. Things I will never tell another soul. No matter where I am in the world I never feel far away from this place. It is my constant obsession. The dream I always return to. The nightmare I can never shake.

I caught these the other day on social media. I apologize in advance for not naming whose they are--I forgot to write it down. I'm getting old. What can I say?

Life in the shadow of that castle can be harsh. People who live and grew up there are tough. More than you can imagine. But the castle remains a beacon. A bright and transformative space. A place of worship since time out of mind. Except time has no meaning there.

We burn to remember. We will never forget.