The Lunch Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

The Lunch
Today I ate the worst meal for years, dry fried liver
and burnt onions with a salad that tasted of fish because
the cook had used a fish knife to cut the lettuce.
I didn`t like to make a fuzz but left no tips and on the day
sun was too hot and I felt miserable.

There was a time in 1946 when poverty washed the cold
shores of my country that I would be happy for a meal like this
it was a time of mass migration and I remember a mother
and child I think they were Slavic dressed in rags,
there was no work and had to go newspaper rounds to make
a little money, yet she did the couple a few coins

Europe was awash with migrants, there had been a war but
people were protesting they had little food and didn`t want
to share any of it yet there was no open hatred.
Is it not odd to think that my country that is rich now and its
people are full of hatred against migrants
and a right wing party shares power with a fascist one, yes
it is sad when we lose the ability to be human and show no
sympathy for those who flee wars in the Middle East and Africa.