Day 243

Will the rains come months from now
and press these bodies into the earth?
Mix them with dying leaves,
dying stems, roots?  Will the smell of blood,
the smell of loss, make the ground fertile,
give way to new growth?  Will flesh and memory
become soil?  Will eyes, bones, breath
become indistinguishable from the earth?
Will these boys who have lost their mother
find her again in the smell of jasmine, sweet pea flower?