Step-by-stjúp

You were not mine to lose.

You did not have my name,
I did not have yours.

You were not mine to lose

You did not have my face,
I did not have yours.

I did not carry you in my body

But I carried you on my back. 

Step-by-step

In my thoughts

In my plans

In my time.

The heima to your vinna

The cozy to your kvöldið

The huginn to your muninn

Sofðu, unga íslenskan mín.

You were not mine to lose

You did not have my past,
I did not have yours. 

Left less than a frænka

Yet more than a vinkona 

A former ex past previous misstep 

A stjúpindinga duped into a mistake

A misspoken spare care that’s no more there

A miss stjúpid left stjúpakær.

It is a wound without words 

From a stranger estranged

That took years I did not have

To learn words I cannot have.

You were not mine to lose.
You did not have my words,
I did not have yours. 

We are left without parting words 

Us, passing parents from different worlds

Passing on words from different lands

To passing children from different clans.

I dream you still have a word for me

An unspoken care

‘Cause I still have one for you

That I couldn’t spare.

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Published in Iceland in Other Words: A Zine of Ethnographic Fiction, 2024, edited by Christopher Marcatili

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