Disrupting the Huldufólk – New poem 1st draft

Disrupting The Huldufolk

I am regretting moving , throwing, damaging

those rocks this morning. No wonder

our tent is broken and I can hardly move my arm.

 

It wasn’t a human who ruined my camera battery,

or stole Moran’s moisturiser.

The  hidden people are settling scores.

 

When bad things started to happen,

we continued moving stones,

turning big ones over,

so they looked neat and clean,

no thought to the destruction we were undertaking,

ruining the dwellings of these other beings.

 

There’s no getting to the bottom of this pain.

I’m going to have to wait it out,

and the tent will remain broken.

No one here can fix it.

 

Tomorrow, I’ll bring the hidden people gifts,

chocolate, biscuits and exotic fruits.

I want to wear an arctic fox fur to feel safe.

 

If I could, I would gather all the stones

back together, and make amends.

 

Other people’s tents have broken now,

there is panic in the camp.

 

The hidden people will not announce their arrival,

but will pull all the food boxes over and

turn the milk and skyr sour.

 

 

 

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