We waited
on the sky
for a long while.
Bustling airport lounges,
giving way to primitive vistas,
unchanged since the ice age.
I always imagined
the wild nature of this place
was the only thing that echoed
the creature within.
Some places can’t be tamed.
Some places
are as visceral and raw
as the day the Earth was forged.
Hard landscapes,
dangerous to inhabit.
Where all of the animals
bear horns, or fangs.
It makes sense here.
The dividing line
between life and death
stands stark
and obvious.
The people treat death
as just another signpost.
A waypoint,
on a constant journey.
I can see
the aurora,
and I can hear
the songs being sung.
Bonfire sparks,
and the waves
lapping the shore.
In a hard land,
the little things
are easy.
Right and wrong,
life and death,
good and evil,
shed their shades of grey
and become as clear
as crystal water,
black as the night sky,
and white as the snow.
A place where a journey ends
and others just begun.
HG – 2020
