Tuesday, October 20, 2015

if you ever need me
when you cannot say you do
in the middle of the hungry night
or when the promise of the day
does not greet you with quite enough
of the hope that gets
even the pragmatists by
call me by spirit if not by name
in the silent way we beckon
without conceding the words
when the heart surrenders sorrows
it has no room to bear

I will gather each orphaned drop
like dragonflies falling from the sky
like wishes awaiting to shed off fear
to find their way again
and I'll barter the tired and broken wings 
of each abating tear
for the apples of Idunna
and the milk from breast of Eir

and if you can find the bravery
to leave the door unlocked 
I will bring them for your feast
not in this place where I am not
gentle yet enough
but in the hall of the mountain 
of your dreams
where I will feed you gifts of gods
to make your spirit strong

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