This is a Feigdarferð, a doomed sea journey.

by Jennifer Morag Henderson

This is a journey where we don’t reach home
the stones never tell you that you belong
the landscape will never gather round you
like a cloak, fitted for warmth, loved, well-used.

The uncaring mountain will shrug you off
each step will always stumble, tentative
every footprint leaves an accusing scar
a reminder that you should not be there.

What does it take to love with certainty
to belong to this place unthinkingly
give it only a glance as you stride through
expect that it will rearrange round you.

Stay, sit outwith, beside the mountain by
the sea. Wait here a moment, wait with me.