Monday, December 28, 2009


The beach is long and I look out at the sea
The water of this beautiful fjord
Answers in blue back at me
I stand at the edge
On sea-rounded stones
And imagine I could, with just enough magic,
Walk across the salty foam

The sky grows dark and I walk a little more
Leaving my cares along the shore
Where the gentle fjord will wash all clean
Leaving me spare minutes to just sit and be me

I wonder about the tide,
If it's like the sea back home
Where within 20minutes lives are lost
And the beach is gone
Where stormy clouds rise over an inclement sea
And heading to warmth and safety we flee

Mors means 'Mothers' and I feel nurtured here
I wonder if this place will make me a mother too
I think of my man, my family and friends
I think of hospitality and warm meals
I think of the vaettir,
And wish I had more time to know them and their ways
I feel them at the edges - curious
But I don't have enough time in this place

The sun is now down and I head up the hill
I look for the road I was on before
I think about the day that is yet to come
And my wedding on this beautiful isle called Mors