The air is torn by sirens every night,
My home shudders, the crystal hums its part,
I’d like to hide my eyes in hands pressed tight
And let my chest take sorrow learnt by heart.
But water splashes, such a tempting sight,
Down the drains, shame and morals depart.
I’ll pour a glass of mellow wine today -
I choose to live, and choose it anyway.
Hot steam. The soap, as white as snow,
Hides weariness and animal fear.
I sink my thirsty body into foam,
And rinse my hair of ash till water’s clear.
The bonfire in my veins is still aglow,
Though death dances on strangers’ roofs, not here.
I savour thick honey and break bread,
And dive beneath a woollen throw in bed.
They lay down in the silent graves,
Between us and them there grew a wall.
Let them wait and howl as pain comes in waves,
And drink their fill of grief, the dregs and all.
But strength is what the heart within me craves,
This war has not crushed it, nor made it small.
I will not follow them into non-being,
My sweet betrayal is to go on being.