Shield Maiden
Though wounded and now lame
She survives to ride o’er
Despondent plains still laughing
Coughing blood
Picking bones and fairly
Cracking seeds and scavenging
From pools and dew pits smiling
She is weary
While old redundant hedgerows
Thorn thick and bleeding serve
To nourish and defend her proudly
The night approaches
Then when she sleeps
She sleeps a fitful sleep beneath
Her shield and pon crowded graves
Still heaving
The graves of those she loved
And those once slayed in
Woodland and on battlefields
Still blazing
Yet forced to wander cold
Tho free from
Longhouse abandoned chains
She rides calmly
A feral child as was yet ne’er
A feral bride shall ever be
The tarot card and rune stones
Both decree it