Saturday, October 24, 2009


In Northern lore, the soul is wrapped within a skein that holy old ones called the "hamr". This pulsing fabric of light is sewn within and between the cells of our flesh, and may outward carry in dreams or beyond our soul to other places. Often it was glossed as a kind of skin, a costume within which the soul masquerades, and yet is revealed. To shift its shape and fly free upon the eight winds was called "ham-faring". Read this charm aloud to know the hamr within your skin.

Cocoon wrapped
strong-gauze white
with wyrd, dream's
throng in thread
masking many within
that fabric of fate we are.
Flocks, herds, homelands
rushing, roaring streams
and wind-swept clouds
of storm's swarm of dancing gnats
cicadas buzz and hum the moon
at twilight singing. Being becomes
happening, happenings, journeys
and tests, trials and pleasures,
shrouded mirth at unveiled fruit.
All these fog-thread spun
in shining silk sewn tight :
a home, a ham hemmed close in flesh
by dear disir and norns in nether
lands of loved ones long ago.
So our fate we may fulfill.


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