Poems by Joanna Svensson

Poems by Joanna Svensson

 

WHEN MY MOTHER WAS NINE YEARS OLD

“With do respect for my mothers’ story”

It was a lovely late summers morning
With clear and lofty sky
The sun stood high above the roof tops
It was to be a very solemn day

For a little school girl unforgetable
Just like each September the first
In the secure little village
Where the children knew every street

You were dressed up – in new made gown
With white rosettes – in your hair
Ready for summon in the third grade
Sharp, alert ąnd filled with expectations
On your way with mom and dad

The school was waiting – open armed
Filled with bright and future knowledge
You felt the fragrance of the white walls
Brilliantly newchalked
Beaming of purity
Gleaming of security
And embraching of prosperity

The first of September in 1939
The sun was already on high
In the clear blue sky
Everyone with proud heads
And straightened backs
Ready to embrace a new year in school
No one ever felt
Not even the tiniest little chill of worry
No one ever sensed the silent burr
Like a hum from bumble-bee’s
By the horizon

But it was not to be any first schoolday
It was not to be anything like that!
The first of September in – 39
The hums of bumble-bee’s
Changed to become airplanes
A whole squadron kept coming close

Very few in this little village
Even had a radio set by then
And for sure noone had listened
At the broadcast at five forty
Very few had ever seen
A real aeroplane before
So the children all greeted them
by waiting their hands in the sky

But foreign troops
Had once again crossed
Your childhoods’ secure borders
In the night – like the most simple thief
With malice hidden
In its bloody agenda

Soon new topics
Were put on your schedule
Soon you must learn
Something else than math
Something new about geography
About history and violence
Something you did not want at all

Bullets whizzed and scattered
All around and everywhere
To the ground your playmates fell
And laid still – never to shout again

Suddenly there were bombs
Your pretty school was blown to pieces
Your Rosy teacher on the stairs
Fell to the ground in a last surprise
With a frozen smile on her new painted lips
And an unspoken question in her open eyes

The school bell in her hand
Fell to the ground with a clang
That told everyone no school today
It chimed something else but summon then

Your dress was all smuthered
When your mother in panic pure
Pushed her daughter to the ground
With herself as shield on top

All went dark
All went dusty
It whizzed and rumbled all around
You felt your childhood at this very moment
Took a painful and abrupt end

Brutally crushed
Your trust to mankind
You, who was raised to believe
That everyone wished you the best
Yes, from this very moment
The world you knew was for ever gone

Still today you see shadows creeping
Shadows from so long ago
They patter around
In the deep of your subconscious
Pushed away by your fear
By your own survival strategy
By the fear that has shaped
All of your long, long life
By the fear that has shaped
Even me!

©® Joanna Svensson

 

THE FIRST DAY OF SEPTEMBER

The first day of September has awakened
So pretty and so peaceful
So lovely and so warm
So beautiful, so sunny and so sound

He walks slowly
Like gliding over the meadow towards me
Dressed up in the most elegant mantle
You ever saw or even could imagine

Taylored by the indian summers’ wind
With big, wide pockets
Filled with full grown seeds
Painted with Septembers’
Pure and specially selected colors
Penetrated by tasty greenery
And ripe and thriving oat
Studded with coral red glowing buttons
Given to the rowan trees for free
The strayhat – with its wide brim
Made of newly harvested rye
With sun flowers ’round its scull
The late summers’ wind
rumples his golden hair
Above his head butterflies flies
around in lusty circles

I stand like enchanted
Watching this view
My heart beats fast
It feels so surreal
I see – I dream – I close my eyes
But deep inside I see the same view

When the first day of September has awakened
So pretty and so peaceful
So lovely and so warm
So beautiful, so sunny and so sound

Then my heart gets filled
With unspeakable happiness
Then I want to embrace
The most uncomparably beautiful time
The time that September
Has always shown me
Always – each and every year

Then – my month I want to embrace
And say: Welcome!

You are mine!

©® Joanna Svensson

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