Change Makes What Stays the Same

The graves are green;
They may be seen.
The urns are small
And clay. The names

Scraped close to ash
Or bones shape words
And counts of dates.
The breath that left

Is still the air;
The wet of flesh
Is rain. It’s all
Still here, all there,

But all of it
Has changed. Loss makes
What’s left. What’s same
Is not the same.