Bogumil Pacak-Gamalski

Yule is an old Solitice holiday in Norse and Anglo-Saxon tradition. I was going to visit my husband burial place today. But been there a short time ago. Dont really like going there, especially this time of the year, when it is wet, gray, desolate and sad. Entire summer and autumn I spent almost entirely on wild beaches, secluded spots, where I could be just with him. Talked to him, built forts of stones and sticks to our love and passion. wrote poems to him. And I said today – no more cemeteries. You are here with me, and we are going to do some damage at night time in Halifax. And we went and did.

Yule in Halifax

Do  you still notice the odd things

and the normal things, expected?

Did you hear the song of the waves

yesterday – when it came to our feet,

caressing, enveloping them in a soft

foamy embrace like a kiss?

Do you still follow me on these walks,

my walks of our talks, our love and pain?

Forlorn shores of foreign land that

separated us. But it failed, it failed, I say.

I scream – it failed!

The land on the edge of Canada,

precipitously looking at the abyss

of cold North Atlantic waters.

But we walked on these edges

holding hands, touching limbs and lips.

I still pull you, like a fisherman dragging his net

from the bottom of a cold ocean,

and I bring you to my boat and we sail.

We sail, I say.

I scream – we sail!

With the wind in our lungs,

hope in our hearts,

and memory locked forever:

at the sea, in the forest,

on mountaintops and in deep valleys.

Come with me to the narrow streets

of this old town of sailors and soldiers.

Let’s go at night and celebrate Yule.

Celebrate the way we never did

while we were alive!

^{(Halifax, Dec.26.2023; by B. Pacak-Gamalski)}