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~ By Courtesy of Others ~



From the ice and shadow of Your obsidian abode,
You whisper to us.
You sit, carving runes of protection and defense,
knowing that, in time, all must journey to Your realm.
Your power, flowering like an ebon lotus fed by a crimson tide
calls in dreams and sings in our blood.
Odin Himself bowed to Your wisdom,
writhing in agony on the Tree of sacrifice
in exchange for Your gifts.

Your name is so often spoken in hushed, fearful tones;
yet it is only knowledgeand comfort that You offer,
a place of surcease and learning.
There is no greater joy than to be blessed by Your magic.
You sit in darkness, forging blades of power and prophecy,
offering up Your gifts to those willing to call You Mother.

Give me the strength to journey to Your dark places,
that I may learn from the hands
that nestled me in my motherís womb,
the hands that will gather my weary soul
when my mortal time is done.
I offer myself, that I may receive
Thy burning kiss upon my humble brow.
Hella, wrap me in the graceof Your shadow.
I hail You.

© Galina Krasskova

From:  "Exploring The Northern Tradition"

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