WHERE GIANTS ONCE STOOD

Bright summer night,

mist hovering

where tall firs and pines

were felled;

a hundred years of

growth

towards the sky,

through the ocean

of air -

reaching for the

heaven, the evergreen

trees saplings

when the Great War

threw blood and

independence

over this soil.

Two hundred

prisoners-of-wars shot,

buried in mass graves

in this county alone.

Blood sacrifice

for the new White Order.

Now, mist

hovering

in the clear, bright

June night. Just

stumps

left of a hundred

years of climbing

towards the blue.

Perhaps

some

two hundred

of them,

like low

gravestones

enshrouded in

mist.

16.09.2019