Country: Norway

NOT the whispering branch,
Nor the cool wind
Nor the weak heart

But a voice saying: go

I was not the sick but the prophet
And I was not the prophet
But the twofold person
Who held his hands in front of him
Now and then someone stroked my arms
It was my mother and my father and they smiled
Because inside my eyelids a congregation stood ready
To lay me down or lift me up

Poetry International 11
“The Codfish”

Poetry International Weblog
“The Codfish”