They Told Me
He is a grim god, they told me,
A harsh master who will push you to your limits and beyond,
Who does not care if you break, if you are shattered
Until there are no fragments large enough to be pieced back together,
As long as you serve His ends.
And while I have seen that side of You—
The unyielding chieftain who drives His warriors without mercy,
Hardening them to a diamond edge—
I have not had that face turned against me.
Instead I have found tenderness unequalled;
Where I was told I would be pushed beyond endurance,
I am coaxed and molded, my rough edges smoothed,
My wounds mended by roughened fingers so gentle
I wonder that they can be the same hands
That wield Gungnir with an iron-firm grip.
He is a cruel god, they told me,
A cold Old Man who pulls the strings of Wyrd behind the scenes,
Who will not hesitate to sacrifice those dearest to Him, who love Him best,
As He does not hesitate to sacrifice Himself
To slow the long march towards doom.
And while I have seen that side of You—
The ruthless strategist, the king whose every decision is weighted
By the need to protect His people, to plot their defense—
I have not had that face turned against me.
Instead I have found a lonely ruler, worn by sorrows;
Where I was told I would be jerked about like a puppet,
I am listened to, my counsel sought and heeded,
My thoughts engaged and trained by a wisdom so patient
I wonder that it springs from the same mind
That leads the frenzy of the Hunt through winter’s skies.
He is a fickle god, they told me,
A heartless lover, easily bored, who manipulates and lies and rapes,
Who would willingly betray any love, break any heart,
Who discards adoring women as He discards His spent warriors
Once their purpose is over and done.
And while I have seen that side of You—
The schemer who uses desire to serve His ends,
Never giving those who yearn as much of Himself as they think they have--
I have not had that face turned against me.
Instead I have found a tender and devoted mate.
Where I was told I would be used and cast aside,
I am treasured, cherished, my place at Your side assured,
My company sought and kept and held by a husband so loving
I wonder that He can be the same god
Who in His reckless youth left Gunnlod to weep.
He is an elite god, they told me,
A royal hermit who keeps council only with kings and their high priests,
Who has no time for the common worshipper, the lone voice raised in prayer,
Unless there is profit to be gained by it.
And while I have seen that side of You—
The far-seeing sorcerer who serves cosmic goals, not individual interests—
I have not had that face turned against me.
Instead I have witnessed Your infinite care for those who call out to You.
Where I was told to expect a callous opportunist who leaves His own to fend as they will,
I see a god who tends the growth of His followers as a gardener his crops,
With an eye so watchful and protective and a guiding hand so sure,
I wonder that those who warned me of Him
Can really claim to know the god I serve.
- Gunnlod-Hjarta
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