POETRY

85. The right to fairytales

In the spaces that I call home

weretigers roam the hill-heart

and deep, deep in those woods

lives the son of the man

who became a bear.

In the skies that cover

the spaces that I call home

sky-husbands appear in the night-skies

looking, looking for earth-wives.

Tree, rock, bird, flower

every river has a name

every mountain holds a story

every story a right to be told.

34. Aunegaarden

(6th March 2009, 21.05)

Sipping my cappuccino

while you were out smoking

I remembered

this is where the year before

I opened a green door

thinking it was the ladies

only to find the broom closet

instead, and some fell out

and the two

ladies at the next table

were in hysterics

and one screamed out,

through her tears,

“You’re the poet, aren’t you?

I’ve seen you in the papers

Oh dear, oh dear, ha ha ha

the toilet’s this way.”

Broom in hand, I tried to conjure up

a smidgen of dignity,

Quickly I pushed the brooms back in

and firmly slammed the door shut.

Putting on a brave face

I politely thanked the lady

summoned extra grace

and teetered to the right door.

Tonight, to be here again

sitting in this old slaughterhouse

where you showed me

the musty stone room at the end

brings back memories

of past escapades…

so many doors in here

one to the stone room

one to the kitchen

one to the ladies

one to the broom closet

(but that I know now!)

and some others

I shall never again dare try!

1 Sometimes in the North

Sometimes in the North

a cold wind blows

a cold, cold wind

wrapping icy fingers around my heart

seeping into my bone-marrow

making me think

the whole world has turned to ice.

Sometimes in the north

a seagull flies by

lifting itself up from the cream of ocean waves

traveling on the wind

flight lines

and sometimes in the north

a young girl sings

the boat coming in calls

and a bird from africa, red-beaked

brings

an early spring.

2 Leap of Faith

NF Års Møte 2006

there we were, a motley group of folk

dress code: scroungy,

flyaway hair, ciggy in hand

eager eyed

a touch of fine madness in every face;

Young woman across the table

leant forward and said,

“I have been to Darjeeling

it’s beautiful, it’s amazing!”

Dear, dirty old Darjeeling

that could sometimes be mist-shrouded

and look faery and unreal on the bridge.

And you, you sang into my hair and asked,

“Where are you really from?”

At nine thirty

I counted 7, no, 8 prostitutes on Rådhusgata

and then, the square with its soft lights and people and snow

cobbled stone streets and cycle rickshaws

like something out of Hans Andersen

I loved the disbelief in your face

the conviction that the tree and river spirits,

the spirit husbands and I were simply surreal

figments of my people’s imagination

I could so well see

you expected me to vanish in a puff of smoke

Ha, pale evening

Ha, ha, red broken down brick building

“Our sense of reality is so limited.”

Yet it was you

told me of bats and dogs and your father

who saw Jesus

How can you hold back the way you do?

How is it possible that you, who know so much already

fail to believe there is much more to that which meets the eye

I wish for you my friend, fellow traveller,

wish you could leap too.

3   15th of May 2006

The snow has returned

as though it had remembered

and the early spring

that was all we had been talking of

turned winter again

but without its bitter chill.

Now can we walk into snow

and snowy woods

yet not freeze to the marrow

now can we joy in

the chasteness of snow

and lay warm cheek

on powder snow

no fear of death

only feel

the beating pulse

of all that life that lies beneath the snow.

4   Snow in May

Oh but this freshly fallen snow

with its own beauty

delicately massed in tiny balls

upon the newly green trees

like sudden blossoms

surprising us in Spring

snow flowers

cotton-bolled

still white birds

lifted by a passing breeze

scattering past the bus stop

melting in my cupped and waiting palms.

5   Out in the falling snow

a seagull glides

silently over

a woman in a lemon and green

windswept coat

snowswept both.

6     Lately fallen snow

Snow scudding

snow on a humped over tree

snow at the end of the day

right down to the feet of the mountains.

7   Halvveien in mid-May

The birches

in front of Halvveien

are a funny green

sort of not-quite-there-yet green

don’t get me wrong

I like them any-which-way green

but can’t help thinking

they’re probably trying

to get used to

coming out so much earlier than expected

that’s why they are still

can’t-make-up-my-mind green.

8   Grøtfjord

From Grøtfjord

you can look out to sea

again and again and again.

At Grøtfjord,

we stepped gingerly into the sea

and gathered blåshells.

9    Road to Tromvik

Sea on one side

moss, young trees and rocks

on the other

OKTOBER FEVER

carved on a wayside rock

the rocks are old

like an old woman wearing

a skirt of pleated grey satin

and white fur.

In places the mountains are so old

their grey locks of hair

have ossified on stone.

Cloud

muslin cloud

and grey stone

easy to believe

they’ve always been here

before the beginning of the world

grey slate

peeping through trees

greening.

10   Tromvik

Terje says,

You can smell the ocean from Tromvik.

Stand here

by the rock wall

and listen to the sound of the spray.

Lone man

in a fishing boat

sent us to Haukur Robertson

who gave us dried cod

and refused to accept payment

because we were ladies come all the way from India.

11   Reykvik

Treeless

desolate landscape

great rock face upthrust

rock in your face

long winding road up

and long winding road down

not a soul in sight

but I can feel the soul of this place

the roots of malnourished trees

cling to rock and flimsy soil

stray reindeer.

Terje says,

things from the sea

are washed ashore on Reykvik

every now and again.

12   At Rundvannet

The first two ducks in the lake

this spring

sailed from west to east of the lake

and when they drew close

to the seagull laying eggs

they lifted themselves off the waters

and soared skywards

in perfect symmetry.

13   Arctic sun

This arctic sun

pushing away clouds

forcing his way into the valley

white stranger to these parts

there he is again

behind the low mountain to the right of us

can you believe all that whiteness?

14     31st May

I had forgotten how green it could get

and after a bit of rain

the change in colour is amazing

the rapid greening of my island

green dreaming

midnight greening.

Almost everyone on our side of the bus

anxiously looked out

as old lady got off the bus

whilst another came into her path

oh let her safely cross the road.

15     2nd June 2:00 a.m

Flock-of-sheep clouds

unmoving over the paleness

sky still as a painting

In the north

gold lines of light

to the south

pink and gold

two birds

in the woods below

singing

a morning song

o such peace

such a sense

of God awake

and brooding over His earth

even now

especially now.

16 Rein Thorvald Oftedal

When I grow up

I want to be just like you.

Then I will have the wisdom

to see beauty in everything

to take the dross as it comes

and patiently distil it

till only the best of  intentions remain.

Oh to inherit

your love of the sea

and your dream of a bright boat

out on a calm, calm sea.

Oh to transcend matter as you do

and sieve it all

into a quiet poetic thought.

17   Harstad

Red Priest

going crazy with Vivaldi’s four seasons

goatherd piping up a brooklet

and sunny Spanish skies

so sunny the listeners dozed
we were told

that the wood for the cello

was cut in 1500

and the harpsichordist

played on with his nose

while Ulf and Skjaulg

took turns at

tapping time with their smiles.

18 Sulitjelma

Who could possibly live here

so many tunnels away

and hardly visible on the Nordland map?

But we were surprised

by the kindness there

the takk for besøk

from eager ninth graders.

Now I know why people live there

its a kind place to be.

19 Steigen

By the roadside

the road signs read, storelgsfare.

Bente with a twinkle

said German tourists

love to steal these road signs.

By the roadside

a brown object

which I thought was a stone

moved

and turned into a baby elg

staring just as curiously

at us as we at him.

20 Drag

A little church with a graveyard

the gudstjeneste was in Sami

and the organist was Greek

and I really thought the wailing

by the graveyard was a Sami ghost.

I guess God was still listening.

21 Hammarøy

Yes, you were right

Hammarøy was very pretty

clear cold skies

and a long nordlys

mountainscape in the horizon

that must have touched a chord

deep inside Hamsun

so, this was what Hamsun country

looked like

the painting in the gjestegård

summer and children in cotton

Arne said we sang well in the gallery

and Elin made baccalao for middag.

22 Fauske

I must have been so tired in Fauske.

I bought knitting sticks and wool

completely forgetting I had given up knitting.

lavender massage

Toothpaste

apple

chocolate

mustn’t buy shampoo again.

23 Nes

Nes was a hopeful signboard

on the way to Bodø

I hoped we’d get some bensin there

but all we found was reindeer in an enclosure

and lots of snow.

Nes unexplored

will always remind me

of this afternoon,

the bridge we crossed twice

trying so hard to get home.

24 Road to Skjomen

Phallactite cliffs

Does God live here

amid white mountains

and dark pines

enthroned in this

peach embossed sky?

25 Ankenes

Some of the sea is frozen

rock

ice

ice lines

houses in a snow field

Some of the sea is rough

signs of life out at sea

one ship

one seagull

surf

beating on rocky shore

white surf

5000 years ago

ancient North men

saw this sight for the first time

and loved these spaces

that open out to sea

leaving man and earth behind.

25 Bjerkvik

Silver blue

Tetrazine blue

blues I have never seen before

being made up this morning

on Bjerkvik

bridesmaid’s blue

Dad’s old shirt blue.

26 Ballangen

Sounds on the water

bells, tiny tinkling bells

sounds of moving water

even in the tiniest of sounds

that these still waters make

show

that things we cannot see

move and live

below the surface

of this frozen sea.

27 Road to Evenes

Snow lifted by the wind

blown across the road

ghostly dancers

pirouetting without pause

reminds me

of the snake

swaying to its Indian charmer.

28 untitled

There is movement just below the ice

life flickeringly returns

oh heart, heart, heart

can there be healing for you

at the end of this long night?

29 Wayside sign near Evenes

MOAN

30 Kaldfjord 2005

There are mountains behind the mountains

under this arctic sky

primeval men cast in ochre

rise out of the grey earth

to the sound of the didgeridoo.

King eagles hover

guide

and guardian

before soaring heavenward

wind and rain collude

the cycle is completed

the harvest of man-seed begins

at this gathering of the nations

this riddu riddu

here

sky, rock and river are wedded.