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~ By Courtesy of Others ~

 

Grim

Poor Sigyn with her wooden bowl
standing eternal vigil over Loki
to catch the acid as it falls.

Lady, I love him too.
Can you understand that?
I would hold the bowl for
you just a little while;
a hour to rest, to sleep,
to lay the burden down.
You are stronger than any
who sit feasting in my hall,
stronger than I could ever be.
I could not stay in this
terrible abyss day after day
any more than I could bear
a tenth night on the Tree.

There are times when
I hate myself for being God,
hate myself for letting Loki
pay the price for a hideous
crime that had to be done.
Baldur must be safe from
the doom that is coming,
and the safest place is Hel.
But now I have lost my son;
and I have lost the best part
of myself, chained to a rock
with a monster, his only
solace a lone loving woman
with her wooden bowl.

Once they called me Trickster,
a laughing, jesting God.
Now they name me Grim,
believing I bear the burden
of a prophecy that the
world will burn in fire.
True - but here is another truth:
There are moments when
I donít give a damn about
the end of the world.

I am Grim.
And the reason lies rotting
in a hole in the ground.

O Loki-
the years go on,
but empty.

© Jim Wise

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