I am the grandchild of Norwegian forgetters.
I am a nephew of those who stole the onions.
We are all guests at the criminal's wedding.
We sense despair and injustice when we pick up
A fallen wren's nest, but we love to feel
The little crackling of the abandoned eggshells.
Drinking a drop of water increases our thirst.
Black-and-white movies intensify our longing
For night to arrive and take over from day.
The shadowy cave we live in extends far out
Over the world. Plato said that. Even Amundsen
And all his dogs couldn't find the end of it.
Stars have set so often in the woods without
Bringing the Magi, that the badger drinks
Sadness each time his nose touches the water.
Last night I brought my grief to my teacher.
I asked him what I could do about that.
He said, "I thought you came because you liked me!"