| November 30, 2010

By Penda Wulfr OR
First published in ORB 206, Autumn 2257

The darkness of night gathers over a circle of trees
Enveloping the wood with a blanket so dark no one sees
Two figures break the scene, a spark of light in the dark so clear
It is you and I my brother, preparing a time we will both hold dear
The leaves turn their faces to watch the sacred blot
While earthworm, too busy, takes down the dead leaves to rot

The light from the fiery brand casts shadows round the Ve
Not enough though to read the written words we must say
Discarded scripts fall the ground humbled by the hour
Nervous eyes caught in the light, the Ve they do scour
A sound heard like the pacing of Wolf or Hound
A sudden knowledge, excitement reigns, ‘tis a wolf or two the sound

The fluttering of wings are heard above the trees, a guttural ‘caw’ screams
We clasp on hands and pull forth the blade, which in the firelight gleams
A turf turned, a soil bed for drops of blood to sleep
A deep cut, each hands life force begins to seep
Then as Herne of the wood takes over the scene, as does the sun in the morn
We clasp hands again, our blood mingled, brotherhood we have sworn

The little circle of trees, dwarfed by Odin’s mighty form seated
Watching, wordless and solemn as the blot is completed
Circled by wolves, pacing, prowling the perimeter
Ravens above, black feathers gleam like scimitars
A call to Sleipnir, protection blot called, potent holy rite
Energy from two blots at once, power sent into the night

We fight shoulder to shoulder my brother, I will die with you
In Odin’s name brothers we became and our bond it grew
Time has passed and things have slipped away, but Raven on our backs
Little circle in Gippeswick, overgrown and lonely, us it lacks
The test of time has passed and together we still stand
Older, wiser, stronger, blood brothers still in Odal land

Category: Poetry & Prose

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