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~ By Courtesy of Others ~

An Ode to Eir

She patiently paces the rounds
and cools the burning brow
with cold water straight from the ground
and sprinkled from pine bough.

She blesses the sick and the ill
and eases all the pain
of those who are weakened and still
and have much strength to gain.

Clad in stark white, softened by blue,
with bare feet on the ground,
She gathers the herbs covered in dew
that keep all sickeness bound.

Healer, Midwife, Keeper of All,
She turns not one away,
She hears all cries and answers the call
and gather those astray.

She patiently paces the rounds,
and tends them all with care.
If you think she cannot be found,
just call her name; it's Eir.

Sarah Wassberg

Her profile and works on Fictionpress

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