The Countryside Church

The church is not your

Friend and

Nor is it

The enemy

It has just been there

With it’s crucifix for

A very long time

Built because of

Good business in the east

It still waits for the

Final judgement

End Of The World

When reaching the empty house

At sunset, hiding from the wind

This is where the memory

Of the dead are stored

Names written or engraved

In shells from the nearby

Ocean, people come here to die

It looks like a good place to

End your days in the lilac light

In a foreign country


Frozen forests,

Snowy fields

A path non taken

Only by us

Into the hidden

Worlds of the past

Down the ages

A couple of hundred years

Farmers and herders

They like us did not live here

During the winter

We came here to remember

And honor our life in the summer