Wandering

Again I have been silent. No, I haven’t forgotten about you all, I have merely retreated for a bit to take care of myself. Times are rough, emotionally. But I’m hanging in there, so don’t worry. I’ll climb back out of the hole again. Hopefully with some fresh insights after lessons learned, but for now I’d settle for just being able to go through a day without chest pains and tears.

 

I’ll be alright.

 

My greatest sadness is the strain it all puts on my beloved husband. I so wish I could be a normal, happy, rock steady wife for him, but instead I am this. That is what hurts the most. It is worse than all the rest, and it is not rare for me to think those horrid thoughts – that he would be better off without me.

 

But, there are also still moments of joy. It’s in the scent and warmth of my husband as I hold him close. It’s in the deeply satisfying realization that I’ve learned something new. It’s in being able to help a friend, and put a smile on another’s face.

 

woods.jpg

 

If you are lost in the woods, who would you rather have guide you? One who has never been in those woods themselves, only seen it from the outside, or one who has walked the paths herself, and found the way out? Or perhaps even she who has made the woods her home. No longer lost, but safe and happy right where she is? I don’t know, I am still wandering.

 

 

 

Amputated (Dream)

 

You can’t do that! I cry out in fear,

watching the woman laid bare on the bed.

A blade presses gently against her arm, 

trailing an invisible line across her skin. 

And then once more further down, 

across the thigh above the knee.

It is diseased, you say. 

All between the lines you see.

There is no other way. 

 

I cry, I fear, I panic and think

that woman will die.

For how could she not?

 

You listen not to me.

Your hand is steady, 

you cut and reshape

the flesh that remains. 

 

It is with great relief I see

the woman stand

alive and free of pain,

free of all that was. 

So much, cut away, 

she’s now no taller than a child

but still alive.

 

Yes, I see her walking.

Through painful loss,

and frightful aid,

a brand new life.

Before they are gone (Dream)

 

I am awake.

How long I have slept, I can’t tell. 

Rising from bed I come to face a mirror.

Tracks across my bare skin, I see them there. 

 

Footprints, paw prints, bird prints, 

prints of unknown beasts.

With a careful finger I follow the tracks, 

trying to make sense of what can not be. 

 

More, there is more. 

Pictures emerging, figures and faces, 

beings of this world and the next.

I marvel at the sight.

 

Fading, they are fading quick. 

Record them, photograph them,

commit them to memory

before they are gone. 

Not Without Risk (dream)

 

The wilderness passes by at a slow pace, to the clop-clop-clop sound of hooves. It is not a horse I ride, not even a pony. Just a donkey, so small that my feet nearly touch the ground. 

Clop-clop-clop-clop, on we go.

Something catches my eye beside the road, something moving between trees and bushes. A blurr of colour, orange or yellow, swiftly gone. To see it better I take the spyglass from my side and raise it to my eye, seeing through the tube a picture only somewhat clearer. 

A tiger. Slowly stalking through the edge of the forest, slowly coming closer. I lower the glass, the animal has come close enough for me to clearly see it even without such tools. It has its eyes on me. It is coming.

Clop-clop-clop-clop I urge the donkey on along the road. We are too slow, all I can do is hope the attack never comes. 

 

 

 

A Cleansing

 

snowy skies

 

 

In rainwater soak

Leaves of birch chopped fine

Into it coarse salt pour and

Mix with almond oil

 

 

Strip down bare

Even if cold

Leave not a thread

Even if cold

 

 

As thorough as ever then

Wash your limbs

Wash your body

Wash your hair

Rinse in running water

 

 

With salted birch and oil you then

Scrub your limbs

Scrub your body

Scrub your hair

Rinse in running water

 

 

Afterwards

Clean new clothes

Chamomile and honey tea

Sleep and be reborn

 

 

snowy skies

 

 

 

Tainted

 

The flame of Odin’s candle flickered, thrown back and forth as if in agony. I took a breath but found no air. I closed my eyes but found no solace. Guide me, I asked. Please, guide me.

The writhing flame only screamed.

Please, I asked. Please.

No.

Every twist of the sacred flame charred my intentions. Please, I cried.

No.

Not when word of self loathing mark your body. Why would I speak to one who is worthless, one who is no one? 

The flame crackled and twisted around its own self as I reached for my blade. My hands were steady even as my heart trembled. Sharp, so very sharp, against skin.

Words of self loathing, I scraped them off. Words of self degradation, removed from my flesh.

When not a trace of shame remained, the flame grew silent.

Such words are not easily erased. The naked eye might not see the hateful lines, but still they are there. 

He did not speak to me. No booming voice nor gentle whisper. Only agony.

Do not approach me so tainted. 

 

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A Child’s Secret

A child’s mind is not the easiest thing to comprehend. Her frames of reference, her sense of logic and reason, it is something else.

 

Before I knew the runes, one came to me. To me and my cousin, who was of the same age. It was before we had begun at school, before we had learned the proper ways of modern living.

 

I don’t know where it came from. I didn’t know then either. We just knew that this, this was important. And powerful. It meant protection. It meant hope. It meant a way out for he who is trapped, and a way in for he who is locked out. We could not put to words why, but this we knew.

 

We called it Norrombergen. A name that made sense to a child’s mind, though to you it may seem strange. Norrombergen, we knew, consisted of one vertical line, splitting into three at the top. It wasn’t until many, many years later that I learned it had another name – Algiz.

 

algiz

 

 

No one taught us. This was secret knowledge that we had stumbled on, and we told no one. For years and years, we told no one. Norrombergen was a secret, and it was ours.