What use is poetry in time of war?
Insular England mourned
a much-loved tree felled
with chainsaw by barbarians
in dead of night. A local
politician compared it
to the death of Kennedy.
Meanwhile Russia continued
to bomb Ukraine, now
almost forgotten
amid daily massacres
in Israel and Palestine.
Evil resumed, three eyes
for one. Yet this feels different.
Is that feared beast really slouching
towards Bethlehem this time?
Shalom, said the freed old woman
to her captor. A moment we cling to.
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