Blackbird
She
used to daydream about leaving it all behind, dropping off the
responsibility and taking flight. She'd ride off into the clouds and
cut all ties to Odin, cut all ties to Valhalla.
But
then the sharp sting of earthly desire would find her skin again.
And
it was always the scent of honor-bound blood that kept her close,
kept her killing and stalking, kept her in the great halls against
the sky.
Still,
the snow falls silent.
And
no god can save her from this falling.
No
sword or battle can rescue her from this feeling.
Brunhilda
is once more caught by the shackles of mortal emotion, floundering in
green eyes and a warm smile.
She
cannot fight this seeping of longing in her bones. She cannot hold
back this rush of want in her heart.
She
is daydreaming at night.
All
of these visions are of Gabrielle.
And
the raven can only caw of the truth underneath the boughs of pine,
this Norse-land winter and of the beginnings of love.
END