Västra Skogen [sonnet]

Posted on Updated on

vastra_skogen

The trees which one time clothed your naked frieze
were where the essence of me played my hide-
and-seek from mythologic entities
and where, when gazing at the stars, I cried.

I’ve walked your hillpine corridors before
by rays sent from your almost-midnight sun.
From Nothing Forest, too, I walked the shore
of iced-up waters, hunting with my son.

How can I now account for déjà vu
each day since I stepped foot upon your stones?
I have some history here (and future too);
it fills my cells and penetrates my bones.

Each time I hear your name on subways said,
an atavistic bell chimes in my head.

 

© Alan Morrison, 2016

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s