war love

By Levia Lau

A sweet summer afternoon, I hear my brothers and sisters talking of love, and I ask them what it is

They laugh and say I am too young to understand, that I must live a few more summers before it occurs to me but I think

I am starting to see it

In the morning song of the red-bellied bullfinch; so delicate against the rough bark

In the ceaseless descent of waterfalls; that slither so effortlessly into quiet streams

In the faint whisper of my mother’s heartbeat; sleeping next to me in the dark. But there is one thing, that is agreed upon by all the fawns as we talk about love: Love is kind and beautiful, the thing that keeps us alive.

I hear the elders telling tales of war and battles. No words were spoken; I asked no questions even when I did not understand, because I understood enough. I saw the tracks in their fur as they limped back home; dripping with the colour of danger. The chips in their antlers that never healed; each marking a signature of stronger beasts. The wild-eyed doe cornered by growls of hungry fate; hopeless panic rippling its way down her dappled fur. We did not talk about war, not in early spring, or deep winter.

War is cruel and quick to strike, and that is why it hurts.

A quiet summer night, And war headed straight for me. There may have been a thousand hounds at its feet, For it roared the equivalent of their combined growls. Painted all over with the colour of fallen prey, Not a limp in its stride, running for hours, Its eyes blazed harsh with the glare of a hundred suns, And the rush of cold air, as it was no place for warmth.

I was cornered on the open road

As I stared into the harsh eyes of war and the world exploded into light.

I couldn’t see anything but I felt my gentle heartbeat And whispered words distant Like a songbird. I smiled Maybe this is the healing touch of love Come to save me from the terrible monster they call war.

I do not understand war, but the elders say I’ll meet it soon enough. They say war is easy to recognise: photography by Nicole Lau

If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger.