Brattahlid (10/19)

A crack echoes down the fjord
As the glacier's iceberg calves
Into the waiting sea

Standing on my stony beach
Hay field rises to the farm
I named it Brattahlid

The skraelings bob
In their skin boats
Awaiting the coming wave

I killed a man in Trondheim
I killed a man in Skells
In fights for ships and love

The blood price paid, exile
Banished to the western lands.
My ship, my love and hope.

A great house I promised her
To steal her to this land
I broke the beams from my boat
To erect it to her plan

Now she lies beneath that cross
And I on my stony beach
Each year the hay grows less
Last cow was gone last spring
I should be off, but this is my home
And besides, where would I go?

The skraelings bob
In their skin boats
Awaiting the coming wave

Which crashes on the jutting rocks
The icy spray comes down like rain
The salt, the wind, sod turned to dust
And blown away by fate

Or the yearning for the lands of my ancestors
The traditions and customs
The time honored practices
That make me who I am.

The skraelings bob
In their skin boats
Awaiting the coming wave