Larksong in War
Larksong in War
Hear how expressively small skylarks wring
From shell-shocked throats incendiary songs
Which burn into crushed consciences the pains
Of conflict and its needless suffering.
Self-mortaring into smoked skies, the larks
Explode in tonic shrapnels which pierce through
Hate-deafened ears to lodge, deep in hurt hearts,
Hot fragments of sharp ecstasy which tear
Smashed spirits past description of worn words.
But such exquisite injuries can cure,
Not kill, war-wounded sensibilities,
(As skilful surgeons’ scalpels heal what swords
Have hewn or shells have shattered senselessly),
Through their reviving art’s felicity.
