Sonnet II

Let us not get confused about this day,

with clarinets broken to spit out lead;

No matter what the alcoholics say,

Button pushers and those below are dead.

Our land was gone the moment they arrived,

Lightening and Mustard were the terms of deal.

The broken Yellow Star pushed to the side,

Our humble town reduced for bombs and steel.

They came at dawn across the sky, a scar.

‘Twas raining rods with their initial spark;

New purity of home, as black as tar,

No single living sound save for the lark.

The books deny our praise as burnèd tongue,

Our blazing freedom song is still unsung.