Beneath the ice

Beneath the ice, a fiery heart,
Sundhnúksgígar tears the earth apart.
Molten wrath in crimson spouts,
Earth whispers a symphony of doubts.

A dance of tremor, earth awakes,
Reykjanes peninsula quakes.
Thousands tremble, giants roar,
Nature’s orchestra at Iceland’s door.

Lava rivers, obsidian veins,
Black tears weeping, scorching plains.
Grindavik sleeps, a ghost town still,
While fire paints the midnight chill.

From slumber roused the giants play,
Fissures gape, the earth gives way.
Three mouths spew forth, a fiery breath,
Aching beauty, shadowed by death.

But hold, the tremors start to sigh,
A lull descends, the moon paints high.
Hope whispers softly, “The worst is past,”
But shadows loom, a die still cast.

For lurking danger coils unseen,
New vents may yawn, a fiery keen.
Guðni’s words, a somber hymn,
“We wait, we watch, what will come?”

So stand we frozen, hearts untamed,
By fire’s dance, by whispers named.
Iceland’s beauty, scarred and raw,
A silent prayer, “Let dawn bring awe.”

For in the embers, hope may rise,
A phoenix spirit, kissed by skies.
Rebirth and ruin, hand in hand,
Iceland dances, fire, and land.

About the Poem

The poem is about the recent volcanic eruption in Iceland, specifically at Sundhnúksgígar on the Reykjanes Peninsula. It captures the awe-inspiring and terrifying beauty of the event, weaving together the fiery eruption, the tremors, the displacement of Grindavik, and the lingering uncertainty about potential future eruptions. The poem celebrates the resilience of Iceland, its beauty even amidst the devastation, and the potential for rebirth from the ashes.

About the Author

Zaneeta Alam is an eighteen-year-old writer from Bangladesh. When she’s not reading mystery novels, she possesses a deep passion for storytelling, experimenting with various genres, and examining the intersections of ethics and human nature.

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