Beneath the stomping boots of soldiers,
does the road even exist?
She remembers the lighter step of the villagers.
When even the largest of them walked this way,
the surface held firm.
The huts can be rebuilt,
crops reseeded,
the animals rounded up and gated.
And, once the dead are buried,
all who remain will be living.
But who wants to remake a road,
a path for lying down,
for being walked over?