A Part of Me

I had written down a sentence which I did not know what to do with. For a long time it was there, waiting. One day I realized that the sentence was the main idea in a poem. And here’s the poem was born.

A part of me

When I left the mountains and went home
became a part of me left,

a part that is now
where I do not find myself,
who might wander
on a hillside somewhere
or over a wide heath
or near the edge of a glacier

It must have been sitting deep inside,
for it has left behind
a strange void
that aches a bit
, and that does not seem to go to
fill with something else

There is only one thing to do: return
and go back when given the opportunity
to return and look up
that part of me that is
where I am now not located

When I again shall go on mountain slopes
and drink of the clear jokkvattnet
and listen to moor golden plover,
then, but only then,
I will find it again