My word for 2017:
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Monday, January 30, 2017

Aloneness

The kind of loneliness
that comes after having been with friends,
the kind that hits you in the gut and
hurts so bad
it doubles you up,
so profound and
so deep.
So different from the other kind that
seeps in during long days of
being alone,
the kind that leaves you limp,
passive and
heavy with resignation.


(Den slags ensomhet
som kommer etter at du har vært
sammen med venner,
den sorten som treffer deg i magen, 
så dyp
så vond at
du står dobbel.
Så anderledes enn den andre sorten
den som kryper inn i løpet av 
lange ensomme dager,
den sorten som gjør deg 
passiv og
tung av resignasjon.)

Wednesday, January 04, 2017

The swan

I saw you flying over the lake last night
your elegant body held up by strong
wing strokes,
you and your mate and three juveniles
still in their grey plumage,
flying silently
in formation
landing,
settling on the lake surface,
ready for an evening snack.

It seems to me like you have the
freedom to go
wherever you want
maybe just driven by
hunger and the need for
protection and
a habitat,
but what do I know?




Friday, December 16, 2016

Blind Masses

The blind masses spoke with one voice
thinking that the people had the power
until the drums set the web spinning
and the thread was unravelled
while everyone insisted 
they knew the truth


* * * * *
An old wordle; Wordle 229. 
The words to play with were:
drum, mass, blind, voice, thread, web,
think, spin, people, power, until, insist

Sunday, December 11, 2016

The empty chair

There is always an empty chair
in my house
in my garden
on my deck
in my car
everywhere
every time I sit down
anywhere
there is always an empty chair
near me



Det er en tom stol
i huset mitt
i hagen min
på terrassen min
i bilen min
overalt
hver gang jeg setter meg ned
uanset hvor
er det alltid en tom stol
nær meg

Saturday, December 03, 2016

I'm Scared

I am scared.
The memory of you and me in
this house
is starting to fade
It's becoming like it was always
just me here
and that scares me.



Jeg er redd.
Minnet om deg og meg i dette huset er
i ferd med å blekne.
Det begynner å føles som om det
alltid har vært bare meg her og 
det skremmer meg.


Friday, November 25, 2016

Remembering the mornings

I wake up to this dead silent house and remember that
I am me without you now

I pause for a moment there
in my new single bed and wonder
how can I be warm and comfortable without you next to me?

And I wonder if there is any point in getting up at all but I always do
while thinking that one day I will spend the whole day in bed and
not feel guilty about it

I start a fire in the wood burner
and remember how warm we kept the house those 

last four years when you were sick and always felt so cold

I go to the kitchen to make my coffee
and I remember how you used to make your omelet
and I used to make bacon and eggs
Now I just put coconut oil in my coffee and don't bother with food


Jeg våkner opp i dette dødsstille huset og husker at
jeg er meg uten deg nå

Jeg ligger stille et øyeblikk i min nye enkelseng og
undres litt over hvordan det kan gå an at 
jeg er varm og komfortabel uten deg ved siden av meg

Jeg lurer på om det er noen vits i å stå opp, men jeg gjør det alltid
mens jeg tenker at en dag skal jeg bli i senga hele dagen, uten 
dårlig samvittighet

Jeg fyrer opp i ovnen og
minnes hvor varmt vi hadde det i huset de
siste fire årene da 
du var mye syk og alltid frøs

Jeg går ut på kjøkkenet for å lage kaffe og 
tenker på at du pleide lage omelett og 
jeg stekte egg og bacon 
Nå tar jeg kokosolje i kaffien og gir blaffen i mat




Thursday, November 24, 2016

Apologies

In my mind, I alternate between 
apologizing for you and
yelling at you
for not being here any more. 

I feel like I am less than half of 
who I was with you,
and that without you
I feel an obligation to fill 
both our roles.

So I keep apologizing for 
not being able to 
even fill my own role.


I hodet mitt veksler jeg mellom å 
unnskylde deg og
å kjefte på deg
for at du ikke er her lenger.

Det føles som jeg er mindre enn 
halvparten av
den jeg var sammen med deg,
men og at uten deg her må jeg fylle 
begge rollene våre.

Og så driver jeg å ber om 
unnskyldning for at jeg
ikke engang kan fylle 
min egen rolle.


Wednesday, November 23, 2016

Blessed


Love has touched me in so many ways,
as a lover, wife, mother and grandmother,
and as a daughter, sister and friend.
I am no longer a daughter, lover or wife.
These scars are deep and painful but
they are there because I have loved and been loved 
deeply 
and I am blessed by those scars.


Jeg har blitt berørt av kjærlighet på så mange måter,
som elskerinne, hustru, mor og mormor,
og som datter, søster og venn.
Jeg er ikke lenger datter, elskerinne og hustru. 
Disse arrene er dype og smertefulle, men
det er fordi jeg har elsket og blitt elsket
dypt
og jeg er velsignet av disse arrene.

©Inger-Marie


Tuesday, November 22, 2016

Crawling back up

Norsk tekst under bildet

When you thought you could not go                                                                          
any deeper,
the floor broke under your feet,
and you discovered that there was a 
basement too.

Dazed, you sat on the floor among 
the dust and the rubble.
There was no elevator
or staircase,
only a heap of boards,
a hammer,
some nails, 
and in order to get back up
you had to build your own ladder,
step by step
until it was big enough to
reach the hole you had 
fallen through.

The process was a long one as you 
worked in the dark,
felt your way around,
hit your fingers as much as the nails.
You bled, 
you screamed,
you begged,
but this was a lonely toil.

In the end you thought you had a ladder
but you didn't know what it looked like.
You made a foundation,
tested it for strength,
made sure it was in balance,
and only then could you
start to make your way up,
step by step.

Sometimes the steps were uneven.
Maybe you could take two steps at a time,
or some were too high to reach,
and you got stuck and had to improvise.
Some broke
and you fell back down and
had to start all over.

But eventually, 
out of breath and exhausted
you pulled yourself through the hole and 
collapsed on the floor.




Du trodde ikke du kunne havne 
dypere ned, men så 
knakk gulvet under føttene dine
og du oppdaget at det fantes en 
kjeller og.

Svimeslått satt du på golvet
i en haug av rusk og rask.
Det fantes ingen 
heis eller trapp,
bare en haug med planker,
en hammer,
noen spiker og
for å komme deg opp igjen 
måtte du bygge din egen stige,
trinn for trinn i mørket
til den nådde opp til hullet du hadde 
falt gjennom.

Det var en lang prosess der du 
arbeidet i mørket,
du følte deg fram,
og traff fingrene like ofte som spikrene.
Du blødde,
du hylte,
du tigde om hjelp,
men dette var en ensom jobb.

Etter ei stund trodde du at du hadde en stige,
men du visste ikke hvordan den så ut.
Du lagde et fundament
så den sto stødig,  
du forsikret deg om at 
den var sterk nok,
og i balanse, 
og først da kunne du ta fatt på 
veien oppover,
trinn for trinn.

Trinnene var ujevne.
Noen ganger kunne du ta to i slengen.
Noen trinn var så langt fra hverandre at du 
sto fast og måtte improvisere.
Og andre ganger knakk trinnet og 
du falt ned igjen og 
måtte begynne på nytt. 

Til slutt, 
anpusten og utkjørt
halte du deg opp gjennom hullet og
falt sammen på golvet.

©Inger-Marie



Tuesday, November 01, 2016

That October Day

Days like this.
Common, ordinary days.
And yet, horrible milestone days.
Rotten, putrid, appalling days that
slither in and through and around me.
Toxic, debilitating days that
paralyze me,
numb all senses and
leave me frozen to my core.

Lonely days -
- so lonely.

I did not think I could live through something like this.
I can survive, but can I live?
I still don't know.

I lost the person I felt safe with.