Thor, the Norse God of Thunder, had a hammer named Mjölnir. Mjölnir was considered a fierce weapon that could level mountains and summon lightning with every blow. In this poetry blog, every Thursday, (Thor’s Day), Mjölnir will forge only song - sing of the mysteries and beauties of the world.

Thursday, October 29, 2020

 A TETHER

 

is what we need.

A strand

 

that braids Trust

and Truth together,

 

that affixes

to a here and now.

 

It doesn’t matter

where we come from

 

if the hands

that hold the rope

 

grip it with experience,

strength and hope.

 

Where the tether attaches

becomes umbilical.

 

Becomes womb.

Sanctuary.




Thursday, October 22, 2020

WIND

 

A breath blew up from the basin

through the golden grass

and past the ridge.

It buffeted you. 

Teased and taunted you.

It did this every time

you walked this stretch of trail.

Without fail.

 

And each time this tussle took you

you felt elemental,

not separate, but a part

of the living landscape.

 

The wind saw you,

knew you, inhaled you.

 

Take that breath away

and the ridge becomes neglect

and all seeing ceases,

and the stillness is a suffering

that is human.

Thursday, October 15, 2020

AS IT DID, SO DID WE

 

Beneath trees that towered over us

we walked through the moonlit park

 

on a narrow stretch of pavement

that gave way to dirt and meaty earth,

 

that gave way to a carpet of leaves.

And as it did 

 

our shadows, like the path,

changed also.

 

A question moved between us: 

Are we becoming trees?


 


 

 

 

Thursday, October 8, 2020

AVALANCHE

 

More like

an avalanche

than a mountain.

 

More like denial

than addiction.

A blindness

 

bigger than

anything

unseen.

 

Yet anything

worth having

or inhabiting,

 

like humility,

requires empathy

over anger,

 

love over

arrogance.

Mountains

 

are avalanches

waiting to happen.

So are we.

 

So why not

make compassion

our igneous inside,

 

the matter

we carry within

our living lives.

 

Then when collapse

happens, we collapse

into kindness.

Thursday, October 1, 2020

AMBIGUITY

 

hangs, in the                     heat of the night,

from an avocado               tree, happy in her

hammock. I try to             make sense out of

what she’s saying,              but can’t. She’s throwing

me questions like              knots I can’t answer,

can’t untangle fast            enough. And because

I can’t her smile                   broadens. Broadens

until she disappears          entirely, and all I can

see is the swooping           arc of a dalliance in

the balance, swinging       and swaying, among

the thick branches            splayed against

the theater                        of night.