Burnt Offering

for Miklós Radnóti

-

I met him in the grave

just before he died;

his face was haggard

but his startling eyes

(though terrified)

were gentle, far-seeing, 

expressive and wide.

-

“I have written these poems

for the world,” he said,

“so that when I am gone

still the truth may be read.

Tell my wife how I love her ...”

He collapsed there, shot, dead.

-

But his voice still lives on

with the urgent desire

to repair the world

with compassion, not fire.