(From last year. Not my favorite, but it was enjoyable to write.)
Set apart from millions
a world crafted of eons
stretching into eternity,
a single spark among infinity.
Glittering in the deep
this waking world never sleeps.
Ever-dreaming, ever-living,
around a sun ever-burning.
A planet filled with smoke and scars,
listen, listen to the silence of the stars.
Throughout Scandinavian shores there are statues called ‘the Fisherman’s Wife.’ They show a woman reaching her hand out to the horizon, in honor of all the fishermen lost at sea, as well as honoring the wive’s whom they left behind. This poem is based on the statue I saw in Norway.
She stood alone at water’s edge,
holding strong her lifetime pledge.
‘Til death do us part’ were the words,
echoing round her head.
The clouds were low and water wild,
winter winds reviled.
Out of sight, out of sound,
Based off a recent expedition to Norway, where I spent time in Jotunheimen (which literally means ‘home of the giants’ in Norwegian) and I was inspired to write something about the endlessness of that place. I know why it is named what it is.
Far beyond the dusty hills of Gjendesheim,
beyond the endless shores of the Northern Sea,
there lies a place, touched by the hands of eternity.
They called it Jotunheimen,
named for those who dwell within the expanse,
Oh dreamer,
the world wants to see your
soul.
Your burning heart,
your tangled ideas,
your iridescent hope,
and
sharp-as-blade sorrows.
The world needs
them.
Across the pallid grey of dusky dim
that lays upon the shattered seas;
beyond the skyline’s golden rim
that scintillates the western breeze,
there lays a hidden, lonely shore
long left to ancient myth and lore.
A silent coast, a desolate strand
an unremembered sylvan land.
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