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.