LISTA LIGHTHOUSE
The green plain curves like a love-letter out towards
the sea. In spite of the pebble beach someone has written
LOVE with bright-coloured flowery letters. The wind presses
the clumps of grass flat. The lighthouse stands erect,
but a twin-brother lies slaughtered and dismembered in the wall.
Long-haired cows graze leisurely in the evening light. All you
need is love a loudspeaker claims from the sky. It takes time
To realise that under this flat countryside trenches spread out
like blood-vessels. We can see the remains of emplacements
and narrow ditches. The war bleeds in photographs from the First
World War on the Western front, others like on the edge of
Listalandet, and at Fetsund Battery they kept a sharp lookout across
Glomma towards the enemy. Present-day bombers, drones
and missiles cannot prevent war still being fought in
the earth’s crust. A trench dug with one’s own hands
is the closest one can ever get to a living hell.
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