Friday, 25 April 2014
All wilderness seemed gone
on the last night in the city.
Days of wandering
along zig-zag mountains,
(not quite real; kept hidden
across the Atlantic)
all boxed away inside of us.
No signs here, downtown,
of that snowstorm/
those crashes under grey-gold sky;
just beyond troll rocks and pure black sands.
Glacial maps folded away
in preparation for our return to civilization.
And so I begin to grieve, the fragments inside of me,
(reflected in milky blue waters), long to be frozen here
onto this barren landscape; forever.
The city's bright lights, after such vast emptiness,
blind me at the icy harbour.
And then, without warning, they appear; above the grey buildings.
Dancing, in spite of the sound and light, wild and unstoppable;
the Northern lights above Harpa.
You hold my hand,
as the world around still spins.
As the wilderness covers the city lights
with its green, ancient grip.