Cries of war caress her skin,
Dying breathes flicker in her hair.
Pale opal flesh, born of moon and stars.
Sharp cruelty and smooth understanding
Revolve around two black eyes.
Shrieks of her sisters summon her
To perform her one fatal duty.
Fear and courage,
Her two invisible hounds,
Hunt amongst the fallen.
Ethereal scents lead her to the salvation
of the Brave and Honourable.
Foul stenches lure her to the damnation
of the Cowards and Traitors.
Pleas of mercy
Are sirens of noise in her ears
That can not be tolerated.
They spoil the chimes of those who yell
In tone of love,
For those they must leave behind.
At such altruistic demands,
Her cold heart beats,
Pushing still blood,
Pulsating once silent neurons,
Flashing memories in her black soul.
A spark ignites and dies.
The oath she has sworn
An unmemorable time ago,
Locks down on her stirring mind.
Ice enforced doors shut out thoughts
Of her past,
Of her life,
Of her loss.
Escorting souls to Asgard,
Selecting warriors for the All-Father.
Endlessly preparing for Ragnarok.
A divine privilege and honour
Requires the sacrifice of a life-time.
By Rebecca Wilson