To Mother In My Fear
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Mother, I am shaking
Fear has taken hold
Of failing, of losing
I am stretched to my limit
My mind cycles
Thought to worry to fear
I stand tall but
I feel so low
The pressing, pressing down
Holy Weaver of Wyrd
Mother of Gods!
Please, hear me!
It is said You hold the threads
As the Nornir gather them
Weaving, weaving, ever-weaving
It is said You are silent in Wyrd
So all I ask
Are words of comfort, a touch
From Your Holy Hands or Lips
To soothe my quaking soul
The greatest of blessings
Hail Frigga, Holy Mother!
Know that in the midst of my fear
I ever-hold love for You in my heart