from Aednan [XI]

Dápmotjávri. Aslat’s grave. Karesuando Cemetery.

Fall–Winter 1920

(Ber-Joná)

That fall

the Lapp Bailiff came

-

The ruling language

ran over us

Swedish words

impossible to pronounce

-

They pushed in

through our clothes

coated our skin

-

-

The needling gaze

a rain through

all that one loves

-

Dirty were we

living with dogs

half-nomads who

followed after livestock

-

Bread so tough it 

made your teeth fall out

baked by our women

-

In the midst of the breeding grounds

he appeared

with the darkening sky

To hold forth

among our

cows in heat

-

He had a message

from the three 

countries’ men

Swedes Norwegians

and Finns

-

Far away from 

the reindeer’s world several

families had been selected

We had to start forcing

our herds to graze on

strange lands

We were to be driven

from the forests mountains

and lakes

Migration paths and songs

had to be stifled

stricken from memory

-

The herd’s memory

the reindeer calves’ legs

that always

led us home

-

Now they would be born 

on other lands

Now each step

homeward in autumn

was a departure from

our lives

-

My brother and the others

said farewell to the trails

and hillsides

-

Never again would

we sit on the island’s slope

where the ocean smoothed

the stones

where Aslat once

had learned to walk

With this my stomach 

tied itself in dark knots

-

While winter 

as ever

whitened on

from all the colors

around us

-

And we tried

to scare off wolves

we traveled fast through

frozen forests

-

Then I was again

at home in the winterland

Watching twilight

dwindle gray between

gray farms

-

In the birch forest

across the ice

was a group of cots

With pillars of smoke

rising beyond 

the graveyard

where you were waiting

Ristin

-

Beyond

the graveyard walls

by Aslat’s grave

I took your hand

you had an

infected wound above

your eyebrow

-

Silent you placed 

the last stone

from the coast

on his grave

-

Nila’s fingers

had to be held

like jerking

reins

And the familiar

waves spoke 

to me 

of a freedom

in the sea

-

I said that I 

hated the reindeer

but needed them

too

-

We have to leave 

Aslan again

For the sake of work

and the herd

Here he would 

remain

alone

While we were being driven

from our homes

-

Then you said:

What kind of home is it

where no one dares say

our son’s name

-

Aslat is forgotten

Only his fate 

is remembered

But you promised me

that his head was resting

safely in his grave

-

The dead

were not allowed to be 

exhumed

-

And the bells

tolled beyond

the forest

-

We were called 

to a church weekend

One last time

we would

meet our own

-

Because now it was full

It was full of

people in the village

Originally published in the March 2019 issue of Words Without Borders. From Aednan © Linnea Axelsson. By arrangement with the author. Translation © 2019 by Saskia Vogel. All rights reserved.