Shrine to Skadi

I court the cold because of You,
Lady of frost and ice,
Guardian of sacred spaces never defiled
by foot or voice or touch of man.
I seek out those places
Skadi
where shards of ice hang low
like hungry spears
and ancient firs whisper
the tales of Your passing.
I seek You with fleetness of foot
and the silent death
my arrows bring.
while the moon glitters coldly above
asking no mercy.
And showing none.

I seek Your solitude
and finding it honor You
with bloody sacrifices
newly killed: rabbits perhaps.
Maybe, if I am quick and keen a deer.
Their hearts are yours, their blood.
I press my head against the cold snowy earth
The blood is dark where it gleams on that white crust
like forgotten gemstones. I wonder what else has died here.
I taste it, like an animal.
I am marked with it.
This is Your sacrament.
And I rejoice,
for You are here
with me.

In this way, Skadhi, I praise Your name
not with words or prayers or static rites.
I do not know how to bring those things to life.
So instead I praise You with silence.
I praise You with the hunt
and honor Your name with the keenness
of my kills.
For You, Skadhi.
I will set my humanity aside,
and be as the wolves You cherish.
Hail.