Sarah Ramsey
There is a memory that isn’t mine:
Undying winters – night rules over day,
The air presses needles into the spine,
“Gods, where is the light?!” my ancestors pray.
My throat emits fog as I pray the same,
Hoping for the sun to shine in the night.
But I know better than to the gods place blame.
Within hours, morning will bring the light.
In that foreign land, morning didn’t come.
Did the wolf finally catch Sól?
This is the night they sound Ragnarök’s drum,
On gods and ancestors, death takes its toll.
The sun hid its face from my family.
Not from me, but everything is still dark.
Do I keep praying to a fantasy—
I can’t tell the wolf from the bear who to hark.
One wrong move, and I will be devoured.
The inward night presses against the eyes—
I must move. The unknown will take the cowards
From beholding dawn breaking in the skies.
My lungs beg the sun to come—and she will.
But maybe not tonight or tomorrow.
My cheeks burn from saltwater pouring still,
Endless nights reborn into sorrow.