Anonymous village. Anonymous people. Anonymous graves. Forgotten amid the larger consequences of war. A farmer, his head hung low, walks through a hilltop cemetery. The Pentagon has said little in response. Only God knows what’s happened to them. Only God cares. The morning unfolds under a warm sun. Fields terraced like a stepladder up the slopes. Cows pull plows for planting.
Children harvest turnip leaves. In the night as they slept the bombs were dropped on them. No enemy here, only farmers. Dead goats and sheep lay in the rubble. A red tractor carcass scorched and mangled. Farmers now harvest bomb fragments. Scrap metal is valuable and winter is near.