I thought I could just shrug it off,
from one day to the next,
a story, a place, another quest done,
tick the box, move on.
I was there, years ago,
steeped in the legend and myth
of endeavour, exploration and dignity,
companionship, friendship, faith.
There are never enough words.
The white, the shades of white,
the inside of a tent, recreated each night now
under the duvet, eyes closed,
a profusion of crosses for the lost.
Men died walking this path,
this incomplete journey,
a century from here.
They watched you yesterday.
And the continent, still hungry,
devours men and women still,
in body and mind.
We are all changed
by The Ice.