Cosmic & Uneasy

Tag: winter

  • Further Encounters With Aurora

    Further Encounters With Aurora

    From a series of poems written during my stay in Lapland.

    I thought the time
    had finally come
    to meet again:
    the right month,
    the right place.

    But shame on me
    for undervaluing
    your unpredictability.
    You’re a slap in the face,
    a rinse of humility.

    You appear at your fancy,
    wrapped in clouds,
    and to frozen photographers
    with tripods and all,
    you blow raspberries.

    Showing up in pictures
    but not to naked eyes?
    Okay, we get it:
    being taken for granted
    is not your style.

    As per our old habit,
    you come when I’m leaving.
    Is our situationship toxic
    at this point in our story?
    I guess we’ll be seeing.
  • Out Of My Depth

    Out Of My Depth

    From a series of poems written during my stay in Lapland.

    Here is so vast,
    so empty,
    so different.
    People here
    have special skills.
    They endure the cold,
    do not fear the snow.

    I, countryside girl,
    instead cannot.
    Snowy tracks
    are not my thing,
    I walk simple routes,
    so afraid
    I would get lost.

    Did I intrude
    into a world
    not meant for me?
    Do time and money
    atone
    for not belonging?
    Am I a joke?

    Me,
    here,
    today:
    privileged.
    This is not a playground
    for folks like me.
    This is ancient,
    wild and sacred.
  • “Get Lost!”

    “Get Lost!”

    From a series of poems written during my stay in Lapland.

    Everything is coated,
    frosted.
    Trees,
    lampposts,
    cables,
    even the road signs.
    Is this some hidden
    “get lost!” message
    nature is sending us?

    “Get lost.
    To hell with your tours,
    your aurora hunting,
    your damned buses.
    This is mine,
    still and silent,
    unlike you all,
    now if you please,
    get lost.”
  • Welcome To Lapland

    Welcome To Lapland

    From a series of poems written during my stay in Lapland.

    Here I am,
    at the edge of the continent,
    at the room window,
    looking at wilderness
    getting a touch-up
    of fresh powder
    to keep the look
    of “welcome to Lapland”
    postcard appearance.

    Then, after this small
    dump of snowfall,
    the sky cracked open
    into a blue hue,
    and the distant trees
    emerged from the background,
    peaceful and pure,
    untouched
    by destroyers.

    Here gentle hands heal,
    take care
    of these last icy
    fortresses
    of loneliness.
  • Ode To January

    Ode To January

    As temperatures fall
    my spirit lifts,
    the sun is hidden
    and the air turns crisp.

    Now that snow refuses
    to visit us,
    winter stands stripped
    of all frills and pomp.

    Still beauty lingers,
    stark and raw,
    soft and slow,
    a simple charm.

    This season sings
    in a low voice,
    its song is blissful
    melancholy.