Excerpt from THE SUN, MY FATHER

71. the land
is different
when you have lived there
wandered

sweated
frozen

seen the sun
set rise
disappear return

the land is different
when you know
here are
roots
ancestors


142 during the summer night
I talk to
the stones at the water’s edge

and they answer
but I don’t know their language

320 spring labors are demanding
snow melts, the female reindeer yearn
ptarmigans molt, screaming

month of crust snow, brittle, brief
hard snow, crust
wet snow, bad skiing conditions
slush

watery snow
sleet
rain
whirling snow
sleet
rain
water on the ice bubbling

sweat
chill
dogs
wind, gentle
breeze
light
infinite light, through the eyelids
dawn burning red
in my head the migration route
in my ears the echoes of
herd bells
tinkling, clinking

spring’s bare spots
sea gulls


tidal beach


537. in these cold lands we migrate, day after day
year after year, for now at least
we trek this barren tundra
from generation to generation
and over time we become a part of this land
where our roots spread

that is how our youth is spent, our strength, the time of life
on the tundra at night and in daylight
that is how the blood sings
the creeks of our veins
color life alive
adorns with happiness
with sorrow
makes the calf skin soft
the knife edge sharp
that is how the water fall of life roars
the ice rumbles
storms howl

and a part of life is that the old ones leave
make room for new life
humans come and go
people are born, disappear
that is how the ocean of life sighs
the waves
wave after wave
that is how people disappear
like foam in the current of life
just a wave, the great one
it too rolls in life’s ocean
which now roars above us

and nobody knows
for how long anything
lives

About This Book