The wind bites at the death of hope

Beautiful mountains stare from the distance waiting

A town scarred from a fire lingering in mind

As the silence quells the last of hope

 

Soldiers, guns and tanks roll through

Seeking opposition on a path straight through

Fortifications find footing, scarring the beauty of those hills

Where evil lurks and killing is a thrill

 

In amongst it all, a maple stands tall

A quiet symbol of defiance for those that meet its call

Where brave souls meet to gather under its shelter

Nurturing hope as fragile as a feather

 

From here, news is shared amongst the faithful

News from beyond these quiet, tired lands, distasteful

Shaking in disbelief, not recognising their home

Searching for light in the darkness that they roam

 

This tree is a beacon, sheltering innocence from evil

Where tyranny and death cannot penetrate

For hope is not lost in these lands

Under the Maple of Alesund