Day 306

The children had been walking to school.
Their backpacks.  Their little jackets.
Their shoes still covered with yesterday’s dust.
The books in their backpacks they are learning
to read.  The pencils.  The colored pens.
The children were brothers.  One older, one younger.
Their mother had stood outside the tent,
waving goodbye.  They were only
walking down the road.  They were only
going to school.  The boys
were always together, their mother would say
A year apart, but almost like twins.
Even their names were similar.
Does she have to separate them now
in death?  Couldn’t they lie
in a single grave?