Devotion

the soft sun rises surely as setting

I rise too today

bowls are filled burning are candles

in the altar’s home honored

quiet are gods gathered in gloaming

or dawn’s new rosy rays

in snowflakes still falling frequent as daydreams

i know that they are there

long is my work I’m weary in evenings

how can i spare for spirits?

yet meaning is found meager but merry

in the world and knowing its wonder

luck seems my fate luck both foul and fair

from the cargo of sigyn’s sighs

hail, sky-treader he who sows chaos

who lifted my spirits to life

chaos comes brimming clear is the laughter

when tale-spinner comes a-treading

peace comes from strife solid is footing

as he guides me through grief

when fallen are leaves when fallen is snow

very busy are vættir at work

give thanks for the cycle thanks for the life

devotion for death of the old

hail, dear majesty hel, she of grim face

comforting warden of withered

whispered, yet present waiting quite patient

for me to find my footing

comfort is needed counterpart to chaos

to level the highs and the lows

comfort is also small joys, serendipity

small moments of marvels unasked

where is the weaver? where the great wife?

clairsenses fail at the call but still close at hand sigyn is waiting

give her all deference due

old are the gods new the novitiate

years of learning to know

knowledge is fleeting ignorance fascinates

mere students the wisest will seem

here is the hearth here the devotee

days pass like waves over water

in smallest of seemings in, still, thoughts so fleeting

i know gods and greet them by name

small is a poem slight to the world

far grander are temples, or trophies

but small, it is mine and maker of verses

presents it for what it is worth

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Olivia Spindle is a Chicago-based writer who mostly works with prose. Ne has been a devotee of Hel since 2016 and started working with other members of Loki's family shortly after.

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