Ivory in my Pocket
© Christoffer Petersen, 2021
Eight hundred miles north
Across a shrinking desert of ice,
Is magnetic north – a wandering Pole,
Closer than my parents’ house. Such giddy latitude heights
Where I live at the very top of the Earth.
I do my best to visit – weather permitting,
Arriving with ivory in my pocket, scrimshaw,
Etched with history, carved with a hunter’s eye,
Or showing off my prized polar bear claw –
stiff knuckle hairs still bloody from killing.
I’ve seen the great beast, you know? Carpet stretched
On a curing rack in the settlements
Pinned beside the bright pink and orange towels,
t-shirts and jeans from a wind-bitten residence,
blistered paint and parched wood – winter etched.
The houses are clumped beneath the mountain,
Paths traced with hoof-footed rubber boots
From one tiny house to the next
Where children play in winter suits,
Like regular kids – laughing, shrieking, and shouting.
I can vividly remember when we visited Ittoqqortoormiit a few years ago, seeing a polar bear skin stretched out on a drying rack at one side of a house and a satellite dish fixed to the other. It summed up perfectly the marriage of tradition and progress that Greenlanders live with. Love the poem Christoffer. Am enjoying the insights into Greenlandic daily life.
Hi Gill. Thanks for your kind words. You’ve been to Ittoqqortoormiit! Fantastic! What you describe about the contrast between the traditional way of life and the modern Greenland is exactly what I experienced. Greenland is a country of contrasts on every level, not least in society and culture. I’m so pleased you’ve experienced it first hand. Hopefully not the last time, either. 🙂