Fifty

Fifty grand oaks towers above us
beneath brances they lurk
come to my great day and pass through

These oaks were like the ocean
could not deny faces seen
these faces tied to our belly

Still going strong despite the current
but seventy men came across
looking for shade in the grass

These were tied to our belly
these faces
these claws

In a single slip second
we considered the greatness
of moving forward

But we had to pause because of the weight
we were tied down
as they were tied to our belly

We couldn’t see them up close
they were trashed
like a scar that never healed

Up close we had to pinch our eyes
the shining thing they put to our faces
immovable and poisonous

No we never knew their whereabouts
yet they came looking for us
caught us in a split second

Suprisingly still
unmoved
my observations flattered

Wings that flapped
pigs who ate
flowers lacking all taste

About Emil Hjort

Writer, poet and mysticist.
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