S. D.

Fish

A fish on dry land I was in that world of happy for a while
There I could not breathe
Salty tears my element still
Back here I dive
Though fondness like a hook
Makes me bleed black bile
There, there, it’ll come off in time

2017/2018

Medicamen

Come, holy wort
Demonstrate your worth
Come, my cure-all
– ah, no, you are not a cure-all
I have another kind of panacea
Piny boughs of the heart
Worthy darts
That can end all pain

But you, Saint John, perchance
Can cure my head
And, who knows, if that
Might heal the rest
But see, it isn’t just my head
That ails
It is the heart

Is the heart not in the head?
Has Science erred?
(Or science, if you prefer,
without pagan divination
Of the writ initiation)
Alas – the heart is in the world
For that, there is no cure

2019

A Nature Trip to Sveaborg

April is no time for ‘konion’ in Sveaborg
Must make do with spinach and ethanol
Another bloody Sunday done
Smite me with a new week
Each hour and day is a god with no end

2018

Parched

Parched
I am a creature of the sea
When I’m well
Scorched
I bathe from dusk to dawn
To noon to eve
To morn
When I’m ill
I take my place in water
Make my dwelling in the shower
Nest my motions in the flower
Soak emotions, seep and cower

2018

S. D.

More poems by the author:
Ruin (Baldr’s dream) 25.2.2022
Ancient 15.2.2022
Four pagan hymns 25.1.2022

See also:
Kaisa Saariaho: Surun ääni 19.12.2022