War Without Border Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

Smoke and fire, burning building and leafless trees,
behind a low wall a solder lies on his side, head resting
on a brick, his rifle neatly beside him and the enemy
was advancing throwing hand grenades.

I look at the picture of World War 1, the scene is of
utter destruction, and the sleeping soldier who doze
the longest sleep, wears a grey coat and I´m drawn
to the peace his body exude.

His body will be picked up by stretch bearers who,
will put him in a basement of a burnt out house,
check his name and put his remain in a mass grave
interment of individuals takes too long.

This war of mass murder was not fought for freedom
or to get rid of a dictator, pursue democracy with guns
in hand, but for big power to flex their muscle and its
outcome was odium and the rise of extremist parties.