A CERAMIC CREDO

call me a survivor
though I'm beyond caring for the term
when all the china in Dresden was broken
beyond repair and glue
even harps became unstrung
unable to note music as an accomplishment
their remains fit only to kindle a fire
a small one amongst rubble of a house
with no mantelpiece to put me on

I am no real mouthpiece –
this has been the case for so long now
and this will come to an end
when the air runs out
for nobody can survive eternally