Ode to Odin

Samhain festivities have calmed down. Now the long stretch of the cold season is here. It is the time of the elders. Here is a poem to Odin, an elder of the Valhalla and the Norse.

In Odin’s name

In Valhalla’s shield decked halls,
Heroes raise their horns
To the God who is Glad in Battle.
I am not there.
At the roots of the World Tree,
I drink a cup from Mimir’s Well,
Grateful that Odin paid the price
For my taste of sight.
In the high holds of Kings,
Bright Lords reckon Allfather’s lineage
As their own,
Paying homage to His ancient name.
I am not there.
My blood is Othresir, Mead of poetry,
Stolen by the High One’s hands.
Find me on the far flung hills,
Talking to ravens.
My life I give to Yggdrasil limbs,
Flesh and bone hung like His,
As an offering for the wisdom of the runes.
My home lies where His path leads,
Be it Asgard’s shining hall
Or Hel’s frozen depths.
Whatever others have done
In His name or against it,
Faithful He has been and faithful I will be
From Ginnangagap to Ragnarek’s flames.
I follow Odin.

Poem written by Roderick Runesayer, 1992.