Invaders Of My Space

Invaders of my Space

Overcast morning, silent is my forest. I see no hares,
hear no birds; it is as nature has stopped breathing.
The sheep that walked ahead of me has disappeared,
and sparrows fall like autumnal leaves.

A carob tree appears, it shouldn’t be here, pods like
green fingers. But hang on, they are green fingers.
Martians are waiting to ambush me. I stop, turn and
run back whence I came. The forest is but a memory.

They came, seized the land; we have to pay to walk
its tracks. They have acquired fresh waters’ nascent
and purchased the salty oceans too; drink or sail you
have to pay. Santo, the ogre, is here… no escape.

poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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