I walk on a long path that is many centuries worn,
Surrounded by brush, thicket, and sharp thorn.
I pass over mighty mountains, and flowers so frail,
On sunny days, and through windy storms that wail.
I am pulled to this place by an invisible umbilical cord,
Not of my birth, but one magically connected with Mother Jord.
I am guided to a grove, where once there grew a mighty oak,
One that was for years visited by many of our ancestral folk.
At Journey's end I reach where once stood Donar's oak tree.
Sadly There is no longer anything left there for our folk to see,
Though the Saint long ago destroyed the sacred oak and let it rot,
We will forever come, and leave offerings on this most holy spot.
- Glenn Bergen, Copyright, 2012.
Go with Odin's wisdom, Freyja's love