Read these poems. Stay close. Lean against a crumbling wall. Breathe in the dampness and dust. Listen to the birds singing at the start of spring and the enemy machinery rumbling at noon. Then step up to the loophole — and look.
See how the dust swallows buildings. How steel threads of shells snap. How streets vanish, erased like with correction fluid. How a fleeting ray of sunlight falls to the ground. How the grass bends after a squad of infantry passes. How an old man pulls his bicycle and disappears into the fog.
We must see the trees and mountains, the snow and rivers, love. And breathe, because today it is a luxury.
The war sharpens sensations and awareness. Poems about war strike deep, leaving lasting marks in the heart. They connect those on the front lines and those in the rear, building bridges of understanding.
