After D., Memorial Day

a light rain is falling.
   perhaps, like the trace of a breeze
   it will send a fresh spirit of peace
   to a world imploding.
shattered seeds scatter, soft, floating,
   silent as dandelion tufts
   over this particular curve of
   earth, to settle after the
   whispers have died away,
   the sobs have sounded.
Now quicken each shell with impossible life
   where death has sought its place.
Overtake like green shoot vines,
   defiant in destruction’s face
   willing the water of too many
   tears to reign, deep in
   the dark where, in time,
   these lives will heave their
   way to the light once again.