Day 1,033

They are holding a funeral
for those buried under the rubble
in a bombing nearly three years ago.
Bodies never recovered. Bodies
never laid solemnly in the ground,
never covered with earth. Bodies
that are fragments of bodies.
Bodies of children. Their mothers.
Bodies that -- moments before the bombing --
were whole. Were running. Speaking.
for bodies the buildings collapsed on.
For buildings. For a whole neighborhood.
For words and teachings and fragrances.
For the sound of lids being placed on pots.
For windows that closed and opened.
For shafts of sunlight that spilled over rugs.
For cats that slept in the corners of rooms.
For dogs who walked, mornings
and evenings, beside their people.
For sidewalks lined with flowers and trees.
A funeral for the already buried.
A funeral for bodies eaten by rats and insects.
A funeral for everything that has decomposed.