I wonder sometimes if our current society expects us to over-explain and preemptively apologize for everything. Between trigger warnings and 500-word essays about our artistic intent before sharing a haiku…
“May contain fiction” or “Warning: Poetry Ahead” seems like adequate warnings for both concerns. Not everything you come across can or should be cozy comfort.
But I also come from an era where artistic expression was expected to regularly present challenging moments that forced you to think or to process your discomfiture. Or, failing that, avoidance of the art was entirely acceptable.
hand in hand through wynds & narrows 'twixt sunlight & shadows we are but phantasms within the dream
A poem prompted by a randomly selected Elder Futhark rune.
Today’s rune is jera. Jera is translated as “year”, and has also been translated as “harvest”. This rune is representative of cycles, the “wheel of the year”, the union of opposites (implied by the summer half of the year ending, winter half of the year beginning), balance, as well as cause/effect relationships.
Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.
with red eyes raw for sleepless, searching for whatever bone is left of love lies scattered stone shores washing ocean in every latinate spoken crossing white crests while flint drags night to morning
deep the well & little from which to draw except sharp objects— flint, bone & nail
A rune poem, based on an Elder Futhark rune selected at random.
Today’s rune is wunjo, which is translated as “joy” and has been interpreted in both the earthly sense as well as in spiritual ecstasy. It has been associated with healing (emotional, mental and interpersonal) and some sources connect the rune to luck, the act of making a wish, or applied will. Wunjo can also be the inspiration for creativity.
Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.
Yesterday evening was a crashburn kind of writing sesh. The spirit is willing, but the flesh… and all that.
Oof.
What set it all up is that I did a reset on the serial I had plans for.
Name change possibly in the works because Everything Falls Apart is a little too, well, apocalyptic sounding for what I have in mind. This story churning around in my head is unlike most of the tales you may have read from me. It is present day and not post-apocalyptic. Nothing fantasy. Nothing science fiction. Nothing cosmic horror. Nothing overtly absurd.
