The old Vølva felt terrible witnessing
a pandemic - a part of human scourge
swelled from pangolins or bats
no matter how this disease spread
wildly from zero to unbelievable numbers
Within few moons the tragedy traveled
Withering - all anyone could do was:
Isolate inside and wear a mask
Like a band-aided bank robber right
In front of trusted friends, trivial foes,
family or familiar faces just for
The fact : the wild vulture of a virus
Was airborne - eerily earnestly
Generously grabbed anyone
With any weaker immunity- ideal
Growth gaining grounds
Hard to grasp even harder to go
Ahead and just keep two horse heads
Afar - the Ascot opening race
Came to mind - a million
Possible combi of careful
Thought out ideas of whys
Wherefore and wherewithals
It seemed to anyone with
Just a tad of justified motion
That the human race had
Met one of a kind beginning
To rake out through the ranks
Mostly the underprivileged
People whose immune systems
Were composed differently
Or compromised diversely
Whose staccato status
In some ways did not match
As meticulously as younger
Folks ; their offspring
Seemingly healthy had
The good luck in being
Strong in vigor and will
Something that Vølva Vigga
Aspired to now - alas
Her mind or lack there of
Was hindering her heartily
Due to a mindset that she
Was forever in shape
Which she was not
Knowing this even did not
Inspire her wilted soul
Being caught in a place
Which was almost against
Her will - being trapped
A bird who could not fly
Freely so her fearless flight
Was hemmed by broken
Bones and bolts on her window
Stopped the whirlwind right
At the pane and feeling
Far from controlling her
Spirits she wrote to Sophia
Her highborn sister akin
Asking her help in this situation.
But her kindred wise sib
waddled in sadness and told
The wildly troubled vølva
That she like anyone else
Must wait it out - outlandishly
- yes - but sacredly sanctified
By using her mind wisely
Stay put and conquer herself
Her earthly desires - her dread -
Her sister’s and her own sorrows
Should become her whole shield
So that despite her search outside
For life and livable moments
She must contain herself completely
Her life was literally her death
If she did venture too much
Away from the given path - pathetic
She - the wise Sophia wrote
If Vigga the Vølva did not
Follow an advice - an awesome choice
Life or early death prematurely
would come as easily eery
Without a parole or a raincheck!!
The wandering sibyl silently
Read her sibling’s script - recaptured
Reality with raw dreams of freedom
But reality hit her right there -
Should she the vølva have a chance
Of living once more freely
In her little house near the brook
She had no choice but to remain
Where she was - and without
Tearing her soul into pieces
Her stout self preservation
Knew that to fight is to let go
The vigorous virus would pass
And just move out of its way
Carefully not to get caught
And so the vacillating Vølva
Sat down to write a thanks
Sincerely to her sister for
Her timely awesome advice -
She Vigga would stay around
Her place promising her sib
That she would wait for
A time when it would be safer
Sadly mayhap not this year
But in about 17 moons
When the world had found
A swerving solution - encircling
The whole planet - a sure passage -
Just then she would embark
on a virgin voyage it seemed like
to her little hut near the brook
And she would again breathe
Freely whether it was winter
Spring summer or autumn
And the harvest moon would
Shine brightly as ever and
Mother Earth had also had
A beautiful breathing pause -
the voracious vølva Vigga would
dance a night's daunting jig
jauntily swerving her old frame
and become one with the earth.
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