Heimdall's Children Wept in Chains

They spat slander in blood and curse-
calling down from the ship-lord's son's
oath to ever free those tied in chains
when they, enthralled by gold's calling,
mired the pine-and-oak-carved crafts
given bless by the Mere-king's foam-fingered hands
to sail seaward as floating temples of frith,
by hauling as cargo Frigga's handmaiden
Africa's children in chains to live as thralls,
and wash upon the waves, to spill vein's bless
slaughter into the tossing fish-bed's depths,
the freedom-lord's father insulted by carry
strong men and women worthy
over the pulsed bosom of brine. Kidnapped!
No crime to call for enthrallment ; forefathers
felled in graves long ago in Saxon slaughter
at hands of Charlemagne silent cry up the yew-yards
how they, once thousand years past, trail
of Saxon tears were folk-removed by tyrants
quick on stripping their heathen hearts of faith,
yet not across waters against their will, even they!
The burning of the Irmunsil, its ashes cast
venom-virile into the waves, the shocked cries
of the broken backs at knee with weep and gnashing
cleaved and burnt soil broken from the homeland's heart,
what more these battered peasants of Ethiopian stock,
proud scions of kings and woodland wizards, endured,
anguished, and silent-moaned, upon the desecrated
temple-grounds of Fridlef's porpoise-highways!
Will usura's spell silence the sound of Magna Charta
rush spiral through Saxon veins, singing virile,
so soon as a slave sets foot on soil
of Saxon land it leaves its chains
unbound with British freedom in full?
Invidia's voice screech-cackles, and screaming,
drowns out the ancient rights to ruin,
to fill the coffers of the cargo carriers,
laying down that law of blood broken boomerang,
whereby six hundred thousand sons of Albion
shall brother-fight-brother fall to fulfill
the iron-clad order of Urd : a gift
for a gift, a life for a life ; and so we might guard
our lives with right, and good judgements, if wise.
Wise too many of our struggling sires were not,
and Loki's lyrical tongue, with laughter,
gave guidance to lawyers to trick with lies ;
and the Wolf lay unbound,
Heimdall's children wept in chains,
the coils of the sea-serpent strangled
wrenched their proud limbs and sinews
to choking, and the whip, and the whip,
and the whip ever-lashing ceased not
to sorrow those souls so life-longing
for freedom our father's fathers denied.
Yet fiery wod and will for freedom
worked up storms in speech of some,
who wrath lightning-beard hammer brought down
the bold words, "Abolish!", and John Brown heeded,
Thor smiling proud. It was a strong day for old Gods then,
when the blood boiled free in British-born veins,
reins-snip raiding, and rile, as in Roman days past,
when wolf-clad kings would cross the Rhine,
and fire the fortress in flames as offering
to Gods who hated chains in every sinew
of their Godflesh, for whom bindings
were meant to bind only those who'd bite
the folk. And Thom Jefferson wrote,
in that strong sounding of independence,
to rob a folk of freedom is crime, breeds more
crime and crime on top of that, to blood
and open tyranny. Saga will speak :
Mother Earth, open up archives,
unheard songs, vanquished voices, rise,
let the skald hear the calls,
so we may speak the sooth that cures.
Truth has its own liniments, spread broadly,
squeezed deeply, undoes bruise and wound.
May the hard legacy's lessons
never fail the minds of men again.