Poetry : The Wings of Huggin & Munnin

The Wings of Huggin & Munnin

d. steine

I understand it is uncomfortable

To live forever in a tropical island

For not all truths born in summer

Are indeed ripe and sweet fruits.

Flags had to be changed on familiar ships

Before sailing away to the name of a new bay.

The fragile kite cast against erratic winds

Had to find its way back on broken twine.

Here, now,

The shore around this island

Remembers and rediscovers

The waves as it always were before

Strange voices and small

Footprints arrived and staked

These empty spaces.

It will only be a matter of time,

Only the winds now tread on the sand

While sea foam frolic

On unmarked washed out shore

Ripe fruits on tiny branches

Twirl with the dance of winds,

Revealing their halves pecked

From the return of once frightened birds

In the silence there is a whisper,

A voice so much like a lullaby

Cradling everything on its wings.

But in the silence also descended

The wings of Huggin & Munnin.

Like the pool who remembers

The pebble who fell and on its wake

Sent dying tremors in circles,

This island could not sleep nor forget

The summer that gave birth

To more than just truths and fruits.

Just like in the heart of that departed ship,

That is also a heart,

This island will never be forgotten

While she waves and wonders

Where do birds go when they die,

Or while navigating the new waters

With the navigation of dead stars.