Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #24 Rán
A stunning new approach to the myths the Vikings loved; enlightening and challenging for the novice and veteran alike.
The Gods and Goddesses of the Nordic Mythos Prose Poems were created following research for Gods Bless Ya!! Rock Opera with Alda and Sigrun Bjork Olafsdottir and a forth-coming book with SigRun Viking Art & Design.
Ran has moods and whims and welcomes all favours. Come Gods and drink her ale, come sailors and drown for her, Ran sends daughters the waves to entice you, pray for safety, she laughs at your audacity.
Cold Pale Eyes Call
Goddess of the sea if you dare to think of her that way. For she is of the deep the unthinkable deep. That which you glide across in fear and bravery and foolishness. Will you home-turn sharply, will you land somewhere, will you prosper, will you sink here? Yes, it will be one of these things. As for returning successfully. That is another journey.
Nine is the most powerful number and this is the nine in one, the daughters, the personification of her; her offspring as one in the nine, they are the waves. They dance for her. They bring for her. Kill for her. Are you of the waves as you sail? Will they find you and bring you. Pray if you can to someone. Dance in the eye of the most perfect of storms. Rán.
Aegir and her, wedded to the ocean bed, brew for the Gods and they laugh at the near-dead souls of sailors and travellers. Princess and child-trades and livestock and treasures and promised brides. All dance in the mad prance of the entertainment of Rán here. Down here.
This is the place to party if you wish it or dare it. Go drown yourself. There is beer here.
Suffer To Dance
Travel to the Isle of Hlesey, their great hall is under the sea if you would. Gleaming gold lights their halls as dead sailors dance; screaming their ever-help for her sick amusement. Did you sail dears? Did you. This is the bottom of the ocean and you travelled here didn’t you darlings. So shiver. Scream and shiver bless.
This is the place for a gathering, a party, a celebration or a remembrance, this is the place of the party host; dance sufferings dance now.
Water Whirler sits here, he is miles deep, he is a cauldron and if you wish it once he will fill with beer. Wintertide Water Whirler. Again and again you could drown in him and all be forgotten. Say, Brew beer.
Nothing she needs is unavailable to her, for here is her net, a wishing net, a fishing net, an ever-filling, ever-fulfilling net. Whatever she calls for as she casts, that is what she gets. Go fishing.
It catches wild pike who have gold rings, it catches the death of nations, it catches lost Valkr, it catches whatever she wishes. Oh she wishes. Yes she can wish; wish oceans.
She will always be there in your deep.
This all seems twisted and evil, but the gods don’t seem to mind so much; as long as there are parties. Even Njord visited with Skaði.
Thank Thor and Tyr. They made her party continue.
Beyond Hlesey are the Stormy Seas of Elivagar, if you thought there was somewhere safer.
Do not dare the Rocking Oceans built by the brothers from the blood of their enemies. Have you the heart for it.
She has as many moods as her sea, perhaps she will blow well and calmly.
Enter her Rocking Oceans carefully.
Have you, have you the heart for her?
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