Allfather

I wrote this in about 20 minutes while sitting in church, something we call a "stake conference". It was during a time in my life when I was feeling particularly drawn to my Norse heritage, and at the time was reading and watching more about who my viking ancestors were and what they were like. And while I am one of the furthest things from a Norseman, I do take pride in the fact that notable vikings are numbered among my forefathers.

Combine that with the strong feelings one gets from time to time while being inspired during a well-prepared and spiritual church meeting, and this poem is the result. I don't know how to describe it, but I'm certain I am not the only one who has experienced the amazing feeling of writing without stopping, and seeing the words just pour out onto the pages with no effort.

It makes sense though: when you write, talk, or participate in anything you're passionate about, things just seem to flow, and you engage in it easier. So when I combine two things I was passionate about at the time (and still am), it's not so much trying to write a poem as it is converting what I feel in my heart into a physical form.

Maybe that's a reason why reading someone's journal, watching a musical in-person, or playing with a child is so engaging? We're not merely entertaining ourselves, but actually connecting with another human being on a much more personal, and intimate, level.

That's beautiful to me.


I know not when that day will come
when the fight shall one day cease
and all my strifes shall be forgotten
to depart this world in somber peace

I know not when the horns will blow
the triumphant return of warriors home
and see the ships that carry us there
over endless seas with rolling foam

I know not how the sound will be
when the heralds announce my name
to the cheers of friends long lost
amid the heroes of ancient fame

I know not when I'll see the doors,
of mighty halls for faithful kin,
whether ancient stone or gilded lumber
swing wide and allow me enter in

I know not then, how long I'll feast
in towering halls, on tables long
or sit with friends by fires tall
and join in talk and righteous song

I know not when the silence comes
when knees are bent, and heads are bowed
when tears will wet the beards of champions
and holy peace moves through the crowd

I know not if He calls my name
or i simply stand when my turn comes
could I even rise from His feet
as my heart pounds as beating drums?

I know not, then, the warmth I'll feel
when we embrace, and he calls me Son
that lights my heart and fills my soul
as He announce my journey done

I know not what I'll reply with then:
All-father, friends, Great Spirit, God
or if he will simply beckon me forth
to enter His rest, with smile broad

But what I do know, after all is said
is that there I will be, amid friends true
for that is my calling, that is my quest.
And He will not fail me, after all I can do.