Resurgemus, a Poem by VaL Smit
The forest lain out beneath the iron sky of winter Is stiffened in frost Frozen in fog The mists as chill as death wandering to the impulse of our south-west winds The river itself is a torrent Tearing asunder the wood of skeletons and Sending a raving sound of thunder through the air Our forest now, The cradle of fog-bred pestilence Breathing contagion into its crowded recesses How I long for blue skies, placid sunshine and soft western gale filled days Our forest to shake l