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~ By Courtesy of Others ~
He Speaks To Me
He speaks to me
Of ages past, worlds built,
Loves won and lost,
Children sired, enemies slain.
The long history of His life,
The victories, the sacrifices,
Each drop of blood spilt,
Each sip of mead offered.
A thousand moments stripped bare,
A thousand memories
Spoken to no other,
Preserved in the amber of His mind,
Glowing.
He speaks to me of passion, suffering, and the Tree,
Of symbols etched in blood and fire
Into His flesh, His blood,
The synapses of His mind continually
Making, unmaking, remaking
Reality,
And of the cool dark waters of wisdom
And the sweet golden depths of inspiration
Tingling on the tongue,
Warming the throat,
And of a son born and laid to rest
To preserve whole worlds.
Each story holds a world of pain,
Blood distilled into letters,
Shimmering on the pages.
I wonder He has room in His heart for me,
So vast the burden He bears.
He speaks to me
Of love, of longing, of need
Of the touch of flesh to flesh,
Fingertips to fingertips,
Lips to lips,
Of spirits joined together
In perfect symmetry.
A dance of Gebo—
Advance and retreat,
Penetrate and receive,
Nauthiz friction that mounts ever higher,
Spiralling upwards towards ecstasy.
He speaks to me,
And I drown myself in Him,
Willingly, hungrily, filled with need.
I stretch to contain Him, strain to hold Him within,
Bursting.
I am all three cauldrons—
Son, Bodn, Odhroerir—
And I am their keeper.
He clasps me in His arms,
Thirsting, seeking release from His endless yearning
And I serve Him mead,
Golden-sweet, brewed from the pain of a God,
From my horn that flows only for Him.
He is more intoxicating to me than the strongest liquor.
I am drunk on His presence, His names, His being,
Lost in Him, reeling
As He speaks to me.
© Laure Lynch Gate
of the Slain
Odhroerir
Fellowship
Author of
Odhroerir:
Nine Devotional Tales of Odin's Journeys
and
Water from the Well And Other Wyrd Tales of Odin
Image: Odin and Saga.