#death gods

at the end of all things
when you face the long walk into the darkness
do not despair for your lot—
instead, look to your host

donn, who safeguards the dead
has a fire for you
a bed, too, and a seat at his long table
warmth and laughter will you find there
or simply a place to rest your head
while the dark one, stern and silent
pays mind to your care

donn, who drowned in a stormy sea
asks nothing of his guests:
generous of heart and spirit
he serves his foaming ale
to all who cross his threshold
as he was lost before us
so he will see
that we are not lost in our turn

and so before the end of all things
when the darkness of the night encroaches
do honour unto donn—
look to your own table

thunder on the rooftops:
the wild hunt rides out
baying as they cross the western skies
stormclouds boil, lightning crashes
the wind whips rain across our cheeks—
or snow falls like a blanket to the earth
hooves spark on nothingness
and the northern lights erupt across the stars

we watch as they gallop, we earthbound dreamers
our faces tipped to the heavens
the hunters are a cavalcade;
the hunt rides for its own
tell me, then, if you would have what is theirs—
who rides for you? and more than that
who do you ride for?

dare to reach after them
and you might just find you can fly

a riddle:
how do you build a home on a boundary line?

our land is crossed with borders
we are cut upon the edges, turned us-against-them
while some of us are neither one thing nor the other:
marginal existences in pushed-aside lives
and if a border lies like a knife between us
how can we balance on the blade?

there is sea and there is shore;
rain and sun; sky above and land below—
but what then, the tide pools?
what then, the mist that seeps across the fields
and leaves the air so thick with water
you can nearly breathe it in?
what then, the ocean
where you may hang suspended
between sky and stone
cradled in the salt embrace
of the world that long ago bore you?

what then, the path of light over water
by which you may walk to the edge of the world
and over into the next?

an answer, which manannán knows well:
the boundary is a land unto itself;
your home awaits you there

it is said thus of rulers:
kingship is a man
but sovereignty a woman
without her blessing, he must sicken and die
on through the ages, the phantom queen
moves from lord to lord
outlasting them all

in her is the power of the land:
as she is battle and blood
so is she also the abundance
of a just and prosperous reign
great queen, by your strength are we made great
when we too stand against oppression

sisters of the badb, let ferocity be our watchword
when the skies grow dark around us
let us not fear:
for we know that you have summoned this storm
mórrígan, who foretells the death of champions
let no man stand against you
may we take the bit between our teeth
and learn how to run