Day 518/Ceasefire Day 48

He makes a meal
of rice, some greens
he’s gathered.  There’s less
to eat now than there was
last week.  He wonders how far
this small meal will go
to keep his children
from whining with hunger.
Their mother dead, he’s all
that stands between them
and oblivion.  Only days ago
trucks carried in
eggs, milk; today
there’s only what he’s cooking
in this pot.  Still, the fragrance
of rice and vegetables fills the air,
fragrances of others’ pots.
And the cries of children
hungry for dinner, someone
singing, someone hammering
in place new walls, heaving aside
large rocks — all these
smells and sounds make him think
this is almost a city again, almost
the beginning of a life.