Blowing In The Wind Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

Blowing in the Wind

Wild oats and thistles covered the track swiping at my legs
as a punishment for old sins I thought safely forgotten in
the misty dale that makes wars look romantic adventures
that separated men from boys where trespasses are buried
under flowers and manly never referred to unless you are
A soppy fool who betrays old soldiers’ secrets.
The cottage was still there but trees around it had grown so
big it could not be seen from the road; the door was easy to
open windows had layers of spiders’ webs as curtains made
the room shady in the noon heat. In intense silence the past
came thundering alive, so many grave not visited and tears
of those betrayed ran down my cheeks, a lake of clarity,
a mirror I couldn’t run away from I punched the stone wall,
bloody knuckles I had spilt much blood, never my own,
I savoured the pain, stood on an ancient table threw a rope
over a beam, when my dog barked wanted to come in from
the noon heat…At ease now I walked back to the road and
behind me a hangman’s noose gently swayed.