One by thousands they
infiltrate the air like cesium
and spray a mushroom
the size of Luxembourg
on advisably forbidden land.
“It does not matter –”
that respirators filter the toxins and
tanks conceal the cut concrete;
for the first time in half a life
someone cares to disclose that
“– if the area is contaminated –”
the land without bird song is safe passage
when you are a well-fed predator.
It’s either your own echo
“– or no one lives here.”
68,000 will now march the other way,
into a phantomized war zone.
“It is our land.”
For hundreds of periods,
“We have to defend it.”
* Used quotes by lieutenant colonel Juri Schachrajtschuk (Ukrainian border protection), cited in an article by the Austrian media station ORF on January 25, 2022.
This poem was written on January 25, 2022. “(might)” in the first line has been crossed out when the war began, 25 days later.