Spear

Spear

Beware, O Spear, son of Spear and son of the Oak stream's daughter:

Mark well that sacred virginal spot where the dream of the clan of Spearmen met the ice of the shieldmaiden's maid; that place of slaughter.

Fear the future for it does not fork like the past that gathered in you; it parts again. And the spear of your son may not pierce the rock, nor spring forth a new stream of sons, a new pool of daughters.

Harken, O Spear, son of Spear and son of the Oak stream's daughter:

Then mourn the proud Oak that for thousands of years has shielded this wellspring of children. Now rotted, it must be felled to make way for the saplings around it. Make holy this spot by the stream.

Then may your son grow strong and straight as a pike and breathe the fresh air of your wisdom; he'll glide on the ice of the shieldmaiden's gaze, before she has melted his dreams.

Then rejoice, Old Spear, son of Spear, son of the Oak stream's daughter.

© Kåre Enga

Author's note to self: [163.590] 27 february 2007. Appeared in blog entry "Spear (the poem), "Blessed is the spot""