Thank you, Iceland

Stepping ashore

just a flicker of light lit her soul.

The last forest’s coal.

A candle’s flame in a pool

of its own wax,

ready to go out if someone with an unsteady hand

made it dip.

Sitting here remembering

how her tears fell like Skógafoss.

A voice inside whispered,

Climb.

Try to be brave

or you’ll die, it said.

So, she began to climb.

Trying to shield her face from slashing knives

of a sideways rain,

but Njǫrd had his wind whip out this day.

The icy spray from the thundering foss

washed the tears from her pale cheeks.

Filling her lungs with fresh mountain air,

she recognized hunger again.

Thank you, Iceland.

Around every bend in the two-lane road,

vast plains of purple lupine spread

like a blanket beneath snow-capped mountain peaks

guarding the gates of Valhalla.

Her feet sunk into the black beach littered with icy, blue diamonds.

These were the children of beautiful Jökulsárlón.

Her wide eyes drank in the humbling beauty

and she felt the lock fall off her soul.

Thank you, Iceland.

Then she reached the river of flowing fire

the great mountain had roared, openmouthed.

Spewing molten lava towards the sky.

Only basalt headstones littered an eerie, Martian hellscape now.

Where Logi’s temper met the wild daughters of Rán,

I could see miles of glittering, black sand lining the sea shore.

Love child of the Gods of Fire and Water – Reynisfjara.

The fire deep within me, too, had subsided,

soothed by an ocean of icy tears.

My heart, too, had turned to black stone,

but I could see freedom in love with the clarity of a diamond.

You see? The voice said.

Thank you, Iceland.

I felt hope began to blossom like the wildflowers I saw

taking root in a tiny crevice,

reaching their little faces towards the light.

From pain comes insurmountable strength,

and such a delicate beauty, I realized.

If the flower can survive this, why on Earth can’t I?

I looked up, searching for the goddess of the skies.

Beautiful Aurora who guided the Viking ships at sea

home.

Dancing across the skies and painting the night

with her rivers of glowing light.

It was music to my eyes.

Thank you, Iceland.

In Húsavík, I felt the warmth of the sun on my face,

as the rhythm of the ship rose and fell

in tandem with the great, rolling waves.

Could the Arctic Circle be so near?

I closed my eyes as the salty air stung my face,

and made me tear from Joy.

Gulls cried out as the humpback surfaced

with a hissing spray,

Rolling gracefully with a wave of her flukes

as she dived again,

Safe in these waters.

As I sat watching the endless, golden sun set,

I remembered who I used to be.

Before he had left me for dead.

Another corpse lying still on the battlefield under circling buzzards.

And from that fire and flame I knew that his anger and pain had

forever changed the landscape of my life.

But like the tiny flower in that crag of stone,

It only takes one seed in the wind to take root.

And begin to thrive in an unearthly home.

I thought of a Viking Shield Maiden on the battlefield

fearless and full of desire and courage.

Her spirit full.

Her sword raised high on a cry.

Blonde locks whipping in the wind, Norse blood surging in her veins.

Blue flames in her eyes.

Her heart swelling with pride.

That Viking Queen never once put down her sword.

And, neither will I.

Thank you, Iceland.