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Hallowed Thunder
To my God, I brew Odin's mead,
The Patron with a great red beard;
For Him, I shall perform this deed,
To a God whom no foe he's feared.
Thrud's Father who refused All-Wise
His daughter for the svart-alf's bride
Kept him busy, and spoke no lies
And so the dwarf was petrified.
There is no sight I more revere
Than Mjolnir“s fervent lightning crash;
The Son of Earth's hammer does sear
Foul Jotuns with its strike so rash.
Mjolnir's precision is flawless;
Its short shaft means nothing at all,
It still fights the Jotuns lawless;
One after another they fall.
There is no sound I venerate
Than thunder from Thor's chariot.
The rumbling does resonate
From goats tied by his lariat.
Tooth-Gnasher and Tooth-Grinder race
Across stormclouds so violent.
Driven by Ving-Thor in great haste,
The goats pull on without relent.
Thunderer's battle brings the rain
That we may plant the seeds of wheat.
He also wins glory amain
For Jotuns slaughtered at his feet.
After the storm, the grass grows lush.
Where chaos once resided,
Flowers and plants shall freely flush;
We won't starve, Thor won't abide it.
Jormungand's hunter is without fear,
Regret or pity; his white-hot
Hammer furiously shall tear
The Serpent's head at Ragnarok.
So now I ask the Lord Donar
For his blessing, so I may learn
To be strong, to live with honour;
And what would You like in return?
© Justin Douglas Blackford
Image: "The
Thunderer", © 2004 Michael L. Peters, used by his kind permission.
Available as print at The Art of Michael L.
Peters