sif /7 cb

how blood tastes;

fog running over the long grass field
low in the summer morning she walks
as she has walked for days slowly
resolve rusting, flaking away

eyes wide, her throat tattered from grief
and the moon behind her back with
the wolves and the ghosts, she
staggers with swollen feet

a girl, blonde, eyes like crystal
waiting at the edge of things,
"there you are."

and she, fresh from the dark,
doesn't understand.

"we've been expecting you."

her knees find the dirt path in silence,
no power left to stand she kneels, face
turned up towards her as if
in prayer at her altar

for the first time in days, her lips tremble
she can finally be weak but no tears fall
the blood on her cheek, her clothes, clumping
her hair together, but it isn't hers.

they don't know why she's alone
and they don't ask, it doesn't matter,
she's theirs now

home gone;
name gone.

At first she says nothing, pain laying so
heavy, a bruise on her heart, black and mottled
yellow she lays in the dark for three days then
blondie in the door frame, "Get up."

No.

Hands in her hair, fingers raking through,
she shuts her eyes, a tear falls slowly,
hot to touch, she could scream

"Sif," Freyja whispers.
"For me."

Alright.