Where Roots Draw Fire

Irminar Folk Measure with Slant Rhyme 

Where roots draw fire and waters bend, 

I spoke my name to the hollow wind. 

It turned once, slow, and took it in;

Then gave it back, but not the same. 

It sang through stone, it stirred the ash, 

It walked beside me, bare and strange. 

No longer mine, yet still my own; 

A name remade by flame and bone. 


Things Once Shining

A Quiet Hearthsong

Things once shining wear to gray, 

Even gold will flake away. 

The voice that calls from far-off dell 

Knows not your name, nor means you well. 

But hands grown old remember still, 

The oaths we spoke, the fire, the hill. 

So stay the path your feet have known; 

And never cross a dusk alone.

 


The Spring Has Bound Her Hair

(A Festival Song for Eostre) 

Verse 1 

The spring has bound her hair with green, 

And stepped across the land. 

She’s trailing clover through the field, 

And sunlight through her hand. 

The snow is gone, the lambs are born, 

The frost has left the stone; 

And every bud that dares to bloom 

Reminds us we’re not alone. 

Chorus 

So dance upon the waking hill, 

And braid the barley fair. 

The hearth is warm, the ale is sweet, 

The spring has bound her hair. 

Verse 2 

The bees have found the bloom again, 

The birds are full of song. 

The morning mist is thin with gold, 

The days grow broad and long. 

The seed is tucked, the furrow kissed, 

The plowman sings with cheer; 

For every root the goddess stirs 

Will feed us through the year. 

Chorus 

So dance upon the waking hill, 

And braid the barley fair. 

The hearth is warm, the ale is sweet, 

The spring has bound her hair. 

Verse 3 

Come light the flame at evenfall, 

And paint your cheeks with bloom. 

Let garlands swing from elder-trees, 

And drive away the gloom. 

O Eostre, maiden bold and bright, 

Now guide our hearts anew; 

And may the land that wakes with you 

Be strong the whole year through. 

Final Chorus 

So dance upon the waking hill, 

And braid the barley fair. 

The hearth is warm, the ale is sweet, 

The spring has bound her hair. 


The Charm of the Shielding

First the story and then an incantation; (English | Harthingaz).

Story

Once foes gathered, once fire threatened. | Einu fianti samnôtun, einu fiurô drôhte. 
Once the hall shook, once the kin feared. | Einu sal bibebôn, einu kun forhta. 
Then came Donar, with oak in hand.        | Thô quam Donar, mit eihha in hendi. 
Then came Wodan, with song on his lips.   | Thô quam Wôdan, mit sang ûf munni. 
Then came Frija, with veil and embrace.   | Thô quam Frīja, mit slôr inti armu. 

Incantation 
Nine knots I bind, around hearth and kin. | Niu knotan bintu, umbi herti inti kunni. 
First for the door, that none break in.   | Ersta zi turi, thaz nioman brichi innan. 
Second for the roof, that storm not tear. | Othera zi dachi, thaz storm ni sciri. 
Third for the bed, that no sickness near. | Thridiu zi betti, thaz krank ni cume. 
Fourth for the child, that no spirit bite.| Firdô zi kinde, thaz geist ni bîzi. 
Fifth for the beast, that no thief take.  | Fimfta zi vihe, thaz diuog ni nimê. 
Sixth for the path, that no foe wait.     | Sehtsta zi wegi, thaz fiant ni warti. 
Seventh for the field, that no blight grow.| Sibunta zi felda, thaz smit ni wachi. 
Eighth for the well, that no poison flow. | Ahtoda zi brunne, thaz gift ni rinni. 
Ninth for the soul, that no shadow claim. | Niunta zi sêla, thaz scadu ni nemi. 
 
So they spoke, and so it stands.          | Sô sprâhun sih, sô stât es. 


A Number Riddle

“Child, learn this: 

When you count your fingers, you end with nine, 

for the tenth is no finger at all, but the hand itself. 

Nine is the wall of men’s world, 

and beyond it stands the unseen. 

Three is the root, thrice-strong. 

Nine is its flower, square and full. 

From nine, the cube rises;  

yet fold its digits, and back it bends, 

always to nine again. 

Thus the Elben walk. 

They do not build apart, 

but fold above and within, 

like the echo of a song 

that answers itself forever. 

Nine nights bind the oath. 

Nine verses mend the limb. 

Nine steps carry the soul to the veil. 

And when the ninth door opens, 

you do not go farther;  

you go through. 

Into the higher fold, 

where the Elben laugh, 

and the world is both ours and not ours.”