Too Much Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

The maps are spread across the desk,
A puzzle piece, a tangled quest.
From Russia's frost to Ukraine's fight,
He stares at shadows in the night.

The ink is dry on NATO's page,
While China moves across the stage.
Across the sea, the desert sands,
And Iran's tension in his hands.

He thinks of Greenland's icy shelf,
And keeps the questions to himself.
A Nobel dream, a golden prize,
Reflected in his tired eyes.

A world of borders, lines, and fear,
He wishes for the path to clear.
But heavy sits the crown of lead,
Inside the weary President's head.