For Freyja
by Ian Brokaw
Oh young Norse goddess with the hair so fair,
Spun to be as straight and golden,
As the supple ripe rye for which you care.
Your tears are the blood of the land you sow,
Spun into thread on your distaff,
From which tomorrow's corn we will grow.
Sewn into the land with your golden comb.
Your song will be sung far and wide,
Over the land which your soft wind will roam.
It blows across all the grassy meadows.
To the cows grazing in the fields,
And the souls being laid in the barrows.
Like a mother, you welcome lost souls home,
And offer them your love unbound,
Like the soothing words of a well-read tome.
To the seeds you plant in the ground.
(c) Ian Brokaw
Artwork, Hair, Makeup by Kat Morris. Photo by Nina Pak. Designer: Temna Fialka.