There are signs of love here in this tiny, barren graveyard…but not much else.
Plastic flowers stand rigid against the ever present wind, dust covered and brittle. Many of the names are hand carved or painted on the leaning markers. And many have no name at all…
I wondered why there were bottles strewn all over this child’s grave and then I realized that they had been votive candles. Someone must have prayed here many times…but, it seems, no one comes to kneel beside this tiny grave anymore.
It’s a desolate place, and the sadness as palpable as the hot wind that that ruffled my hair…
