ELEGY Poem by Torgeir Rebolledo Pedersen

Life's a trap
At worst a mass grave, at best a graveyard
Each alone and each under his stone
A stone on defiance
A stone on kindness
A stone on generosity
A stone on sympathy
And a stone on laughter
Only Death would grant asylum to

Life's a funeral
Each grief alone in a long, long row
One grief staring into another's back
And then griefs blended to a grave beer
A sort of joy of mumbling bumblebees
Life revivified by that
Resurrected harvest lads
Resurrected harvest lasses

Life that puts on life
and life that puts on death
Life each alone and each under its stone
A stone from defiance
A stone from kindness
A stone from generosity
And a stone from laughter
A stone lifted for each loss

Life where everything returns to life (and death)
We are the oats We are the rye We are the rapeseed
We are bluebellers and wheatgermers and we are pledged to God
In holy water mumbling bumblebees
Resurrected harvest lads Resurrected harvest lasses
Rewept pathways now retrodden linking folk and folk
Whole landscapes rebuilt
For the moon's sickle and Mammon's scythe