Terese Mörtvik

Poetry - All Right

You say -OK- and I believe you,
even though I should know
that ring of false certainty
all too well.

You say -let's go-
and I plan our journey,
even though the tickets
won't go where you say they will.

You say -Yes- and like a fool
I forget to watch them,
your hands, your eyes,
what your smile is hiding.

You say -Fine-
and I trust what you're saying,
but I'm through with that now,
and we aren't all right.

But I'll make sure we will be.

Poetry: Little Girl (Haunted this Christmas)
Little girl, don't drive the streets.
There's nothing you will find but sleet,
and pain that wears your countenance.
Don't watch the mirrors as they dance.
Christmas bells, they toll like death,
don't listen to their ringing.
Find a place of life and love,
with yuletide carols singing.
Little girl, don't haunt the streets.
There's nothing you will find in sleet —
not heartbeats lost, just straying tears,
no hidden truths, just buried fears.
Seek out instead the happy years
of future friends at Christmas.
Poetry - Welcome to the Madness
I write a story sometimes
to keep cold nights at bay,
a fairytale of my own devices
because I have so much to say.

My tales are not just laughter,
not just silk, or love, or light.
They're mirrors of what's in my mind
both the shadows and the bright.

Tears that make us blind
and ancient love that bleeds
are inside the lines I conjure, but
also hopeful seeds.

Freedom and captivity,
futures and the past,
words that speak forever
and things that cannot last.

All are within my power
to tease from within the grave
and forth from joyous heavens,
from master and from slave.

I have three words of comfort,
six instances of grief,
nine mentions of a lover
and one sentence of relief.

Let's head out on a journey
to take us far and wide,
if ever you feel frightened?
—know I'm by your side.

Come on and brave the darkness,
come out and play with me,
dance to my tunes of living
and my words of reverie.