Works > Futility

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Programme note

Futility was written for the Wilfred Owen Commemoration Festival 2018, and creates a sparse soundscape representing the futility of war set to the beautiful poem of the same name by Wilfred Owen.

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Futility by Wilfred Owen*
Move him into the sun –
Gently its touch awoke him once,
At home, whispering of fields half-sown.
Always it woke him, even in France,
Until this morning and this snow.
If anything might rouse him now
The kind old sun will know.

Think how it wakes the seeds –
Woke once the clays of a cold star.
Are limbs, so dear-achieved, are sides
Full-nerved, still warm, too hard to stir?
Was it for this the clay grew tall?
- O what made fatuous sunbeams toil
To break earth's sleep at all?

* Used by permission of the Wilfred Owen Society

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