Day 852

Not finished yet
with the living, they’re
defiling the dead.
Bulldozing the graves,
mauling the bodies, crushing flesh
newly there, not yet disintegrated.
Your grandfather’s body.  Your
son’s.  Bodies ground down to the sand
they’d been living in.  Who
will receive the ones dying now?  Where?
And the dead:  do you think
they’re at peace? They float
over their sullied burial places, 
watching the living.  Watching
the dead winter ground
absorb the minerals 
that are all that remains
of them.  Watching
those who loved them
come searching for them
and find only a handful
of dirt.  Broken stones.
Shards of bone
mixed with horror.