On The Write Path

In repose (a walk in Solvorn, Norway)

In repose

Start at the corner where wild strawberries bloom, where moss clings to walls of rough granite. Climb past the place where you shower, where you sleep. Take a photo of roses, fjord and sky. Don't shy away from the wind thru the lilacs. Embrace a new driveway, marvel at old wood, older stone.

Clover clings to grass, lilacs arch overhead. The road will divide you. Choose. Orchards of apple and pear will protect you regardless. Now Solvorn lies half-hidden below, huddles of white, red and grey. Dots nestle between lumpy mountains hugging the inlet. Birch waves in a breeze, a hammer pounds at the addition to a house. The old road still goes up.

Go down towards the white church. Children play this raw day, flit between tents, the other side of the fence from mown hay, oblivious of the cold. Wonder whether your hands will ever be warm again. Stuff them in a pocket then view a slope of uncaring lupines, daisies white as fresh snow.

Reach the church and open the wrought iron cross of the gate. The church bells are silent, the door locked beneath a lit lamp. Visit the dead: a Walaker gone at 14, a Solvorn who lived to be 80. Find the grave of a Kaare who was alive when you first came here.

The sun has come out, scant warmth for the living. The dead respond in stone: Takk For Alt. Among pansies and geraniums, one last pink tulip spreads his lips this 15th of June. Begonias bloom. Fragrant carnations grace a painted stone: "Tenkar på deg".

Yes, let's think of you over the rumble of a tractor, distant yelps of the youth. Can the dead hear the living close the gate as they leave? Two cars bounce over the speed bumbs "farts dempere" before you. Look out over deep blue brackish water. Notice how dry your mouth is. Turn left at the sign with the apple that points to your temporary home.

         the dead in repose
         the day in repose

© Kåre Enga 15.June.2015; Solvorn, Noreg.

Note: original in notebook. Edited 25.June.2015.