On the day of the recital
A warhead crashed down on our house.
Three of my family died
And only I survived,
But, though I shan’t find peace again
That very evening
I played, in pain.
The music did what music does;
I gave them Mozart, Bach and Brahms.
Soon grief seemed not to matter,
As all fell back into its arms,
And evil turned to trivial
As wonder filled
The spellbound hall.
