A Poem During War (Cavatina) (In Answer To Archibald Macleish) Poem by Gert Strydom

Not the loss of men, machines or a country
to destiny,
or the farewell of you to whom I long,
or to be free
from the ravages of a unwanted war,
always holds me
like the beauty of the last summer spent;
the deep feelings for you do not relent

as I long for a new dawn without pain
or any fear
while the future now looks very grim
and guns I hear
sending messages of their deadly flame,
nothing is clear
and although we do constantly just win,
the shattering of my soul did begin.

While bullets, rockets and shells do whistle past
your face, our love,
is out of my mind, as like a machine
I act above
the mere decency of being human,
while I do move
from one sheltering onto the next one,
all other thoughts but survival are gone

but still so intense you remain with me,
that I do dream
of your countenance, I see your face;
in clouds like steam
the wounded do for God, each other or
their mothers scream
with the smell of burnt flesh everywhere,
the pain of dying is constantly here.

[Reference: 'Two Poems from the War' by Archibald MacLeish.]