Odur, Lofsonjur Claire

Posted: July 27, 2010 in Poetry

by Emanuel Shajhef Quinton

Odin. He could not express what she meant to him, nor
the depths by which he would try. He only knew that
when she was not near, a part of him would die. He
watched her from a distance, as too near and she would
see. He helped when she did not know, for his
existence could not be. From birth it seemed they were
forever joined, a destiny intertwined by the hands of
fate. Through this bond gifts were gave, a shower from
Balder’s mate. Daughter to Fre’ja, Mid’gards kin,
Claire, sister to Brunhilde, yet none of this she knew.
Still, he watches. He always has and always will. For
Valhalla is where she belongs, wearing her hat of horns
and riding the back of dearest Joergna; her winged mare
There is not much else to quietly say, nor do. For
though these things are well and true, Claire knows not
what it is she is meant to do. Instead she sits, and
sometimes sleeps at a desk not far from a wall. Her
mind is set on many things, and often she ponders the
meanings of it all. But though she knows not, still it
is, and while it is, it shall ever be. Odur, Lofsongur
Claire, and as time winds down, so shall her frown and
the light in her eyes will pass, and she shall ride
once more with her sisters, through the wandering
fields of Valhalla’s forever green grass.

Copyright © 2009
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