Poems from the Battlement
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Read these verses. Stay close. Lean against the collapsed wall. Breathe in the dampness and dust. Listen to the birds singing at the beginning of spring and the enemy machinery working at the twelfth hour. Then approach the embrasure — and watch.
How the dust swallows the buildings. How the steel threads of shells tear apart. How the streets are erased, like with a correction fluid. How the sunbeam jumper falls to the ground. How the grass bends after a group of infantrymen has passed over it. How the grandfather pulls his bicycle and disappears into the fog. We must see the trees and mountains, the snows and rivers, love. And breathe, because today that is a luxury.
Show yourself to yourself. How much sugar you put in your tea. How you fry potatoes. How you squint from the sun. How high you pull up your socks. Whether you crush the paper cup before throwing it into the trash. This embrasure is wide. And it is only yours. You just have to take a look.
Do not be afraid.
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