The Satan Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

The Satan
I will sit here and not move for an hour
empty my brain of the past I refuse to look back
nothing there worth remembering
except pristine fields of snow in the morning
and put skis on the first boy in the whole world
crossing this area before the sheep were
let out making the acre into a mess of yellow
dirty mass when looking for food, sharp narrow
hoofs trampling over my dream and I thought
of them as animals that had been rejected by
Lucifer and my grammar helper insist I had to
use the capital letter when addressing him this
fallen angel who is now winning the hearts and
the mind of the People of Europe who refuse to
help civilians who have lost everything, yet we
have lost more, say our human dignity.
We are like the people of Israel who are
sinking into the brutal oppression of the people
who are not of their blood and the future tell me
we will lose everything in heartless apathy.