Mending Old Scars Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

Long ships gone, the axes still,
Our fathers sailed, with hearts of ill.
East and west, they took by force,
Leaving pain along their course.

Now years have passed, a different shame,
A guilty whisper in our name.
We send our wealth, a helping hand,
To heal the hurt across the land,
Where Viking fury used to reign,
And sow the seeds of endless pain.

The oil that flows, a golden tide,
Prosperity where wrongs reside.
No need for raid, no need to steal,
But can we truly make things heal?
Can money mend the scars of old,
A story whispered, to be told?