A Spectrum of Sound
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
We do not understand the screams, and yet we do.
We do not understand the wails, and yet
They mean. The silence of the dying cat is true
As well. She does not purr. We stroke and pet
But words and sounds are useless. Tigers scream.
Translation isn’t needed. When beasts moan,
They do not try to look for pity. Cherubim
Will never intervene. A mortal groan
From rifled deer achieves no gospel help.
The same is true in Auschwitz when a Jew
Smells Zyklon B. The pointlessness of yelp
Is clear. Complaints leave Christ without a clue.
The wounded underneath a mushroom cloud
Fulfil no peace with sounds, however loud.
~ Phillip Whidden