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~ By Courtesy of Others ~
An Ancestor Poem
In daydreams of far frozen lands
I see Sigfather's ravens rise
And guide me to that hidden hall
Most high, where heroes dwell.
I'm welcomed in from withering frost
To take a seat with honored hosts:
Men, Women, Kin.
Those who died in days long lost
But whose deeds did never fade.
I share a drink with worthy ones
Who give freely of frith-
Foes of heavy-heartedness are they.
I have to offer only thanks
And oaths to honor our old ways.
I ask for only one last thing:
That they would with me wisdom share
So I can boldly face the cold
Most cruel beyond these walls.
Speak to me these Thewful few:
"To you no more will we bestow
For from us need you nothing more.
"In a world besieged by foreign creeds
Stand strong in days of deepest dark;
Tall in times of fiercest ice.
For the blood born by each Heathen heart
Burns brighter than smoldering Muspellheim.
"Look into each and every eye
Of those with whom you hold a horn
The proud, hale and hardy:
Men, Women, Kin.
...And know this to be true."
As into the night I do depart
With warm wishes from the hall
I find the wrathful winter wind
Weak, a meek and feeble foe.
A savage gale that would lay low
Lesser folk who live their lives
On bended knee from birth to end
And fill their lives with fatal fear.
I go on into the winter storm
On my face a smile unfading
And feel the Wyrd of my folk within.
Men, Women, Kin.
© T. J. Hafer
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