Day 368

Birds of prey circle the sky.
What are they looking for?  Like everyone
else, they are hungry.  Death-eaters,
death-seekers, they have plenty
to nourish them.  The earth
is saturated with blood,
but the birds will be fed by flesh, 
by dreams, by memories.
A girl of twelve looks up
at the birds, watches them
circle, imitates their cries.  
They are louder right this minute
than the drones, the warplanes.
I will take the dead into my soul, she
tells herself, and I will survive!
I too can inhabit the sky.