Hymn to Sleipnir
Dark dancer, whose hooves remember the black door,
Whose eyes have followed the warrior home
And seen the children of the sea,
Carry the storm-burdened question to
Those beyond-fields where shadowed grain falls
From the hand of the sick farmer
And the land weeps for fire.
Dark one, who travels on the wind's road
And finds the splendour of the sun,
Come twice to the gate of mists and
Enquire of the seething rocks
Which footsteps glitter among the bones,
And leave their shining monument
To a tower of skulls.
Tireless runner, beat gently the black door
That keeps you from the vanished grove.
The wind is a sword of ice that kills the moon.
Beat gently your rhythm to the watching night
Where the horn is silent and the tree is bare.
The darkness is no stranger than the hand
That guides your restless rider to the flaming rune.
Copyright Vanessa Read 2007