Part 2
We made for the harbor finding fair Færeyjar inside our reach
Anxiety over a journey momentarily broke, we could breathe
Its thought the Faroes became more widely known by one man
Brendan, an Irish Monk, who'd lived 300 years before this day
The location allowed a small village, and somewhere between
It was a place the black haired Danes created, leaving warriors
Inherited of a Danish culture, our comfort would be temporary
For while we were all ultimately one tribe, this was a moment
As black clouds of storms could be ridden out, there we'd wait
Until a path cleared, we'd launch all our dragon ships quickly
Yet until then we'd time to speak and sit by a fire but not for me
I was not fluent, the words of the Norse were not mine, but still
If the words involved the forge or terms of anger, I understood
If speaking about family or Gods or war, just familiar gibberish
I was lost in real life, my comrades were for work, not friends
Sharpened weapons, shined helm and armor, looked a menace
Thankful for our break in the Faroes we'd time and a reflection
When the storms and wind passed, we launched dragon ships
Through the waves we were flying and we weren't passionless
The destination would be remembered for our direct attention
Speaking of being in Færeyjar allowed stress relief before war
I had a busy mind, even surrounded by many, it was all a blur
I was given a parchment, it had more than words, but a drawing
Showing a man, nailed to planks, with others surrounding him
It troubled me, I'd seen a cross symbol before, in regions raided
Monasteries and followers all dressed like the person sharing it
Told that this was but one of many religions, it was different
Rather than the many gods, praised for how they'd fight and kill
On this cross was one of their gods, who was considered meek
I remembered the imagery, from the time before being a thrall
In my old home, were candles and small statues of that lamb
We were now ready to sail, and for a moment I was conflicted
Was I made to be alone again, with believes suiting just me
Or did this encounter reveal, my beginnings were being free
If I remember, have I lost my outlook, do I not also believe?
Was I made to be alone again, with believes suiting just me
Or did this encounter reveal, my beginnings were being free
If I remember, have I lost my outlook, do I not also believe?
The first chapter of this poem is found at
https://alexnesspoetry.blogspot.com/2026/09/Thrallturnedwarrior.html
