Verse

Wyrdworker’s Læ

The Wyrd-weaver heard the call of Odin and answered on a wet day, despite being sick in bed with strep throat. She got out of bed, and with Odin’s power felt better enough to get her shaman’s rattles and journey to him on the godly plane. He made a request, and she agreed -without realizing the cost.

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Wyrd-weaver’s Læ 11-13-2025 [the wyrdweaver is careful, thoughtful, as she speaks to Odin] Grandfather you’re wise and you know many things. You whisper wild words to ride by wyrd winds. From where you sit long, your friends tell you all. And I felt so honored to answer the call. Though days soured stormy and thorns cut my hands, I pulled on the shackles to chase your command. Unsheathing the weapon I’d long set aside, I leapt for the skies with my heart opened wide. How bright were the rune signs writ by my hands! Drunk with my passion, I flew ‘cross the land. The price that I paid as I reached with my might Shredded my spirit, threw me down from the height. You stood a great shield against teeth, tears and loss. My love echoes hollow: my wings were the cost. Although there are those lifting me up in need, I cannot forget how I conquered such deeds. If this is the path my stagg'ring steps ahead, Drawn with drag markings from limbs that are dead, Then bowing I’ll let new knees bend low the reeds, And slip into silence where wights wail and weave. Wyrd-webbestranes Lōs [Sēo wyrd-webbestre is snotor and geþancol, þonne hēo-sprecþ tō Wōdene.] Ealdfæder, þu eart wīs, and þu cnáwest maniges þinges. [quiet]This comes not from my pride; of guile I have none. Not only seers sense when snow days have come. [pleading] If I cannot fly, cannot sing, nor can I see, Then you, mighty god lord, have no use of me. As I softly sit small by Laufey's hearth fire, My eyes pierce the window; I see the lit pyre. My legs they are broken, my feet they are numb. The magic has ended; I’m robbed and left dumb. I lay in the darkness denied heaven’s light.

Disclaimer: AI was not utilized in the making of this work

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