We are born to be makers of crude tools.
And our speech is full of cruel
signifiers: you, me, them, us. I
am sure we will not survive.
No. I am only certain that the
pine trees that ring this lake in Virginia
are occasional, that I sit between them
at the water’s edge,
cast two stones against
each other and rest.
For we go down
through these
terrible hours
together.
***
Kevin Powers is an Iraq war veteran whose award-winning first novel, The Yellow Birds, was published in 2012. His debut poetry collection, Letter Composed During a Lull in the Fighting, will be published by Sceptre next month.
Content from our partners
Give a gift subscription to the New Statesman this Christmas from just £49
Related
