Third Son of the White Shell Woman

what pulls you North with the wolves‎
sullen child, what dark stars guide you?
your will bends trees like the wind,
unstoppable as gravity

what troubled thoughts crease your brow?
you fell strangers with hip-shot stares,
the Navajo name you Dark Cloud but‎
your face betrays you, weary and carrion-eyed

with an iron heart anchored in Helgafjell‎
you stumble under ice, 
scouring ‎abandoned horizons for your last harbour
there are no more monsters left to slay!

Patrik Gryst

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