For the Vanadis
Hail to the Spring Maiden
on the Equinox morning
as she rises and walks the fields;
flowers bloom in her footsteps
and the earth wakes anew.
O Freya snowdrop-bedecked,
wake my life anew and teach me wonder,
for I am dull and grey with years of burdens
and I have forgotten the mystery of the rising seed.
Hail to the Laughing Dancer
on Beltane morning
as she weaves the maypole’s ribbons
and the wombs of women are filled
as they lie with their loves on the turned earth.
O Freya bright in green and gold
fill me with life like the pealing waterfall,
for I am dull and dry with years of thirsting
and I have forgotten the mystery of the branching trees.
Hail to the Summer Queen
on the solstice morning
as she turns the head to love
and the body to loving,
and opens hearts with a touch.
O Freya with tongue and thighs of honey,
open me up like a ripe fruit
for I am dull and withered with years of hunger
and I have forgotten the mystery of the tender blossom.
Hail to the Jeweled Lady
on Lammas morning
whose flesh is her treasure,
and worth all the greatest treasure,
all that gold can buy.
O Freya Brisingamen-Bearer,
help me to know my own worth
for I am dull and shrunken with years of downcast eyes
and I have forgotten the mystery of the proud glance.
Hail to the Warrior Woman
on the equinox morning,
white-armored, choosing the slain
by her own glorious criteria,
harbor to the defenders of beauty.
O Freya who rides with Valkyries,
give me strength to defend all that I love
for I am dull and frightened with years of defeat
and I have forgotten the mystery of shieldmates in love.
Hail to the Mistress of Seid
on Hallows’ morning,
mysterious and seductive through the gauze
of her own wisdom, glowing confident
in the ways of women’s magic.
O Freya wreathed in veils of smoke,
open my eyes to possibility
for I am dull and blind with years of illusion
and I have forgotten the mystery of the candle’s flame.
Hail to the ambassador to Asgard
on the solstice morning
a ray of light in a cold white world,
bringing the green of Vanaheim’s fields
and the gold of Vanaheim’s courage.
Hail Freya Frithmaker, Bridge-Builder,
help me to hold out my hands with a smile
for I am dull and closed-in with years of mistrust
and I have forgotten the mystery of the open arms.
Hail to Odr’s widow
on Imbolc morning
searching for her lost husband,
whipped by salt-sea wind,
waiting in the winter harbor for her father’s return.
O Freya weeping tears of amber
help me to wake to the dawn of rebirth
for I am dull and beaten with years of mourning
and I have forgotten the mystery of the melting frost.
O Vanadis, may I be open to all you have to teach
in spite of all I have become
and because of all I yet could be.
— Gudrun of Mimirsbrunnr