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~ By Courtesy of Others ~
Not Yet Dead
The snow fell heavy on that winter's night,
Wounded and battered from that morning's fight.
The banging of steel rang loud in his head,
He lay the day unconscious, but not yet dead.
When he rose he saw that the battle was done,
He searched for his brethren, but found not a one.
Snow covered bodies littered the ground,
Only the dead in that field would be found.
His wounds ceased to bleed though the pain was still there,
He started to walk though he knew not to where.
He limped through the snow bearing his pain,
In hopes that his brethren had not all been slain.
Hours had passed, yet he saw no one's fires,
And his will to survive began to expire.
He fell to the snow and looked forward to death
When a whisper roared aloud in his head.
This is not your time, a beautiful voice spoke,
And he saw Odin's daughter appear out of smoke.
She waved her hand and beckoned him to come,
Towards a light that appeared where there had been none.
Again he walked forward toward the light she had shown,
And in just a moment his courage had grown.
His Valkyrie had inspired him to live and move on,
So he focused on the light and walked until dawn.
In the morning he saw that the light was a fire,
And the smoke in the air rose higher and higher.
He wondered if the camp was of friend or of foe,
He knew he'd been seen, so soon he would know.
As he gazed at their standard, the winged death head,
His brother he embraced who had thought he was dead.
He was helped to the camp where he would be safe,
And he spoke of his Valkyrie, his brothers amazed.
They thought of the Vikings of old, Odin's men
And wondered if the blessings were extended to them.
But one of them knew for a fact that they were,
For if not for his Valkyrie he'd be dead for sure.
© Gunnolfr Odinsson Hildulf Kindred
Image: Theodor Kittelsen, Norwegian artist (1857-1914)