Pick up the bones
from the bottom of the ocean:
the albatross bone,
the bones of sailors,
the bones of your father.
The sea bed shakes with
a rotting carcass.
You can hold the whale bone now:
the teeth, the jaw, the tail;
these are bones of giants,
these are my bones.
You were born of giants.
Some were gods, some were kings,
some were ogres, and some
stoked the fires
on top of mountains,
their volcano rages
boiling through the generations;
lavas flowing down into the sea,
steaming, taking temples in their wake.
They had forgotten the skills of the priestess.
Before they walked the earth,
your ancestors were gentle sea giants.
Your blue whale came from that same line.
choking now on plastic,
haunted hunters now hunted
by industrial factory ships,
harpoons turning water into oceans of blood.
Your fylgja is the spirit of these giants.
Swim with her, as she swims to me.
I sit here on my snow mountain
with my wolves, my furs,
in crystal caves
adorned with the jewels with which
the ice spiders spin your cloak.
The wounded warriors have forgotten
I am a great hunter,
I am their equal,
I taught them how to be hunters so
the old ones could achieve greatness
in the art of war.
Remember where you came from.
Remember who you are.
Remember you were once complete,
as good as any man could be,
as good as any king could be.
You are now the warrior priestess
hold your head high,
no one can touch you
the way they once hurt you,
you have come out of their shadows.
They were only mortal these men,
wounded warriors who forgot
who forgot how to be noble,
who forgot how to swim with whales
until they swam with whales.
So hold those whale bones,
hold them high,
for they are your greatest teachers.
Algiz. Algiz. Algiz.