Courtesy of Others ~
As the ice-bulls ride on the cold grey meadow,
As the ice-hills glide on the cold grey plain,
Let the ice-grey maiden wrap me in her mantle
Let her rime-cold fingers stroke my spine.
As the ice-winds whip all the clouds to tatters,
Let her strip the heat from my suffering bones,
Cold as ice yet always moving,
Let the ice-grey maiden turn water to stone.
This poem is
Nine Sisters' Shrine.
A CD containing this
and other shaman songs
is available from
Prayers, rituals, music & online shrines
This work is licensed under
Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License.
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