The Icelandic Canadian - 01.06.2000, Blaðsíða 42

Vol. 55 #4
THE ICELANDIC CANADIAN
340
WILLOW ROOTS
by Donna L. Skardal
Oarsmen battling angry waves,
an urgent race with darkening sky,
thrust the york boat toward sheltered sand,
in tow flotsam from distant isle.
Ah-h no ordinary flotsam they,
Iceland prepared her children well.
Strong determination carried koffort ashore
for refuge 'neath gnarled wind-torn willows.
"We will build a colony" they said,
“we will build a church and a school"
When darkness fell, midst crash of wave,
voices whispered "God keep us safe"
They slept and in the morn
there was frost inshore;
in the lee of a white rock
a son was born, its cry hushed
at the sound of his mother's croon.
Heads bowed in grateful thanksgiving
then took up tools, their station surveying,
for haste must be made
before winter's storm,
and the sun shone on their labour.
My feet sink deep in this warm sand,
deep, deep as the willow roots.
koffort—Icelandic trunk, wooden box
Snaedal—"ae" sounds like "eye."