Le Visage du Soleil(Amma)

Updated: Jan 13

I found a home in a foreign heart. Afraid to let the cold back in,

a woman

heats her home.

Cooking me traditional fish,

potatoes, milk,

feeding me

wafers, rhubarb,

jam and cream.

Inviting me to sit on her couch, she teaches me how to make pancakes, shows me how to hear a soul, birds, properly, when you can't hear the voice.

I borrow her boots

and Faroese.

Stories and songs,

I match expressions



like a delayed traffic light.

I find a home

in foreign locks and walls,

native flowers and dirt.

I sing in caves in cars,

play the harp

among its trees.

With an ocean so cold,

a woman so warm,

I don't know how to be.

I find myself

with tears,


met with the face

of the sun.

White walls

to welcome orange,

when I first enter her home

she is wearing white.

The occasion


kisses me

to grab the sides of my cheeks

like velvet

I am sacred enough to be her daughter,

to look into her blue eyes

so far.

Left to touch the sculptures,

stare at the modern windows

of her son's apartment.

She would be an architect

if born in a different time.

But there is time

in her hands,

wrinkles still displaying the ring

of a lamp's flicker.

It lingers.

To carry

a holy dessert, wishes

she can say,

against the sun

I sit in her backyard.

It is my stay

for once,

and not my leaving

that has revealed this blessed heart.

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