Birth, Death, Resurrection.
This is my religion.
It is what my mother taught me.
She taught me how to resurrect
bones.
Meat.
Weeds.
Leaves.
Scraps.
Scat.
And now my daughter asks:
“Will this go back to Earth?”
Devotion:
this is what I care for.
Faith:
I have no doubt.
What we do in this small temple,
it is righteous.
It is holy.
Decomposition is life.
I decompose.
The bones never decompose. Just pretend that they’re rocks.
Sometimes I dig a grave for them. But if you boil them long enough in an acidic solution, the smaller ones do crumble to bits.