Trance poetry

I can’t recall if I have mentioned it before or not, but my big “project” for the year is working through the elder futhark of the runes. I’m using Diana Paxson’s excellent Taking Up the Runes as my guide, but instead of completing each month with a ritual, I am doing trance work with the two rune spirits* in question. As I was in the trance for hagalaz and nauthiz, it was as though I was also watching from afar and narrating. Odin made sure afterward that I wrote down my notes as I’d narrated, and I am getting the “push” to share it. Normally I don’t share on the very rare occasion when I produce poetry, but I know better than to say no to Him.

*A few years ago I had a dream about rune wights, specifically one as a dis, and at the same time a few other people were independently having this UPG. The runes can be quiet spirits, but certainly there.

I see
I see Odin before me, a heart before my eyes.
  You are not my heart.
  But you are in my heart. My fierceness, my power, my joy, my seeking, my knowing. I understand you. Friend.
I see You move to the side to let me on my way.
  Walking through a blizzard.
  I am wearing your cloak, fur lined.
I see myself thinking about stumbling, as You may have in this storm.
I see a staff and spear in my hand, to help guide my steps.
  Snow shoes appear on my feet, steadying my gait. (Hail Skadhi.)
It is dark here; I see only snow, blackness, white line far away to hint at horizon.
I do not know where I am going, only that I must keep walking.
  The walk is my journey for now.
I see what lies underneath this snow.
  A snowflake, or is that a helm of awe?
  It is what lies beneath all that surrounds me.
  So simple a shape.
I see my hand holding the staff.
  Keeping me upright.
Is it cold here? Am I numb from it or simply immune?
I see myself in a cave, temporary shelter.
  Rest here for a minute. I have a reprieve, too short, for soon I move on.
I choose to move to the ice, and I know beyond that I can break through.
I see You again, telling me to stop here.
  Noticing my narration.
  “Repeat it.”

I see myself, shaping with words.

Hail Odin.


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