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SG Holter
Poems
Sep 2015
Infant Legs Running Towards Fathers
Walking the gravel roads that my
Ancestors walked before me,
I feel the ghosts of their struggles
Beneath my feet.
But also their voices; laughter,
Infant legs running towards fathers
With shouldered axes and saws and
Smelling of forestry.
Weary, but not too weary to pick up
A child for an afternoon embrace.
The trees still sing the songs they sang
Them to sleep with;
Bellies full of barley or not at all.
Despair and hardship, yes.
But more. The land remembers
Their lullabies.
Written by
SG Holter
Fenstad, Norway.
(Fenstad, Norway.)
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