The Valley Of Horror Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

the valley of horror

On my way to the shops in the charming one horse
town called Benafim, I took a shortcut through
a narrow valley like a mensur scar in a high ranking
German officer's cheek
When down, I regretted my rash idea, airless and still
no birds sang there, and no rabbits crossed the path
sharp floret bushes ominously murmured veiled threats
The trees were pale and long since deceased.
The sun didn't reach fully here; deep shadows were
dark, murderous spooks waited, the soil was rusty
the blood of those who didn't find the way out.
I froze and sweated, the track appeared endless and
my dog had disappeared.
Finally, at the exit, I ran the last 50 meters, the dog
waited for me, sensible she had taken the old road.
I was told by the villagers no one walked the there
a massacre from a war forgotten the evil continued.