Category: writing

Truth
Photo by Kaique Rocha on Pexels.com
I travel long distances without leaving my home.
This is truth.
I pull the hood over my head, cover my eyes and I am back on the road, blacktop beneath my soles, blackthorn in my hand, tall pines doused in their pungent cologne, rising tall and casting everything shadow.
This is truth
Blacktop fades to gravel fades to black dirt stained grey and the birch draw closer, birds talking from the broad reeds, powder puff cattails and rushes green. Giving directions. Giving meaning.
This is truth.
Feeling gravities pull to gloaming space, I ramble on.
This is truth.
19 Aug 25
tossing a rune — 19aug25
ehwaz
```
at rivers' crossing
she joins, shoulder riding light
silent as the fog around

no more words—
silence is the wisdom
of the day
```
A rune poem, based on an Elder Futhark rune selected at random.
Today’s rune is ehwaz, which has a core meaning of “horse”. A horse is often associated with journeys, travel and movement. By extension, it also implies symbiosis with another living creature or fylgja, and the rune is associated with loyalty or trust.
Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.
19 Aug 25

slip-tween

the bough's silver song
framed of moonlight
under the oak we rest
feasting on gold
slip-tween slip-tween
through and back
a kiss of the nightqueen
as her river drifts by

19 Aug 25

notnight

neverything coming waves
washing over my black sands
in the untethered paleness
of notnight aglow afar
and i undertow flow
back to the nine
back to chilled dreaming
as if unknown to wake

18 Aug 25

Wandering
Photo by Kaleb Brown on Unsplash
Wandering the daydream, with all the accompanying mists and the fey voices just out of earshot in those mists; a forest of lingering like a wraith waiting for the gloaming of nightfell — such is the path I flow.
Weary of trying to find connection, I feel the tug of something less even than byways. And, giving in, twin feet shamble towards the briar and thorns to follow on the stones to sacrifice of both eyes. The words are liars, near all, so we toss them to the underbrush and let them return to mud.
This is my lonely and I feel possessive of it in the way the chill of fresh-fallen snow stings skin to pleasure as two bare hands mould it into shape. I do not think I can share it, and I would never dare to give it away. It is far too precious.
Turn away, just as the guitar peals the last banshee cries into night. We are like as not, unforgiven.
18 Aug 25

hidden-faced moon

*Photo by Cornelia Munteanu on Unsplash*

embracing the forest's fog
delving ever deeper within
shaking off distraction
with the rising of a hood
so that both
seeing & hearing
becomes more clear

a murder calls of autumn
long rains, hidden-faced moon

18 Aug 25

fractured moons

these fractured moons
stolen away with threadbare
etched in whalebone hue

time to turn off the radio
listen to the forest hum
time to watch waves come anew

oh, these lonely
moon broke nights
between a hard place and you

17 Aug 25

callings

leaving oceans west
we turn & leave sun
to tread north & night

to tombstone & ice
with frenzies far spent
we give of thorn, scathed

with waves washing
blades dig black to snow
calling of moon

17 Aug 25

skrit

Campfire — *Photo by Ville Palmu on Unsplash*

hand cast stones at
the nothing of alone
washing the waves
on over my night eyes

even the wights wait
to speak, chewing silence

scoring steel with flint
seeking sparks in empty
skrit skrat skreet
we are the ravens
at their clams

sputtering flames
we gather to heat
chill bones

16 Aug 25

stone alone

i gave to ground
& scrimshawed
all my bone

called to north of
badb, my stone
etched of heart song

to feather dance
in spun spiral &
rhythm slow

stone alone
at nightmoons
here comes her
snow

15 Aug 25