In Iceland stories are told of those who are lost in sudden blizzards and never found again. Survivors of anything often feel guilt. I wanted to write a poem to capture a sense of closure and comfort. It has its origins in something I read in 2018 and I’m repeating it from then.
You were tugging my wrist
I heard you cry out
There are storms hereabout
You were lost in the snow
Where do your bones lie?
