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~ By Courtesy of Others ~



Cold, You are called, and harsh.
God of barren, forgotten place -
remote, unapproachable, fierce as wolf on the hunt.
But I have not found You thus.
I have felt Your gift of quiet strength and comfort many times.
I think that You are God of all forgotten creatures,
those neglected souls bereft of love.

You teach us to sing a song of power and beauty
in the lonely wasteland of our scarred and broken hearts.
You are Father to all those children
called ugly, ignorant, or wrong.
All little creatures in need of love are welcome inYour hall.
No pain is too great for You to succor,
no agony too great for You to bear.
Do You weep, in the solitude of Your ice-scapedd welling,
as You seek those lost and bleeding souls,
their number sadly beyond measure?

No one thinks to go to You for healing,
yet that is the gift You bring,
God of all orphaned hearts.
All who hear the song of the ice-blessed darkness
may count themselves blessed by its sweetness.
I hail You, Son of Sif,
Mighty Ullr, Glorious God.

Galina Krasskova 

From:  "Exploring The Northern Tradition"


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