The Voelva Vigga looked again at her internal mess

knowing that muddling around more than usual

would just intervene internally and hurt headily 

The highborn Sophia, her sister, was nowhere to be found

she had moved out so long ago from helping 

her younger sister - an oath she found hard to keep

Vigga had a conundrum which comically enough

she had solved herself - just from abstaining to be

or rather absolving all reasonable responsibility

She needed to walk behind the woodland ways

near her beloved brook from her bairnhood

but the mother earth had been scorched 

so trees had burnt, the lovely rivulet was raven

where there were tadpoles none to tell

stories about - just silence and sadness ruled

Vigga threaded very slightly - tugging her shawl

around her - sadness was within her self 

outwardly her biology followed the local biota 

In this terrain she could not get her bearings

and she knew it was time to leave the forrest

in which she had stayed for blue moons

Aiee, where to? where to find cooling calmness

she loved her solitude and her forrest friends

could she go to where she knew Sophia was

Could she meander in mooring habors

looking at sails and bows of wandering boats 

would she be able to adjust - ardently?

The Voelva Vigga had a convoluted conundrum

she had met her less likable self on an island

somewhere she actually loved very much

Could she shut her mouth up to hide hopelessly

her inner thoughts and learn how to howl

with the flock of fiends and friends equally

did she want to lose some of her friendly folks

for feeling proudly part of the common crowd

that was what had upset her sense of self

Alas, she needed to stay split between two worlds

as always - that made her feel part of neither

the either/or earthly delights were tempting

and could curiously become a way of life

without her self-knowledge - the hardcore

hope of being part of the earthen entity

called humanity - a humming messy meatloaf

no - she was on the sidelines - as always 

sadly realizing really she was the odd outsider

Tugging at her sea-colored  shawl a rough relic

from a faraway coastal area where sheep meander

along the wild windswept stones of gray granite

Vigga the Voelva started to walk again along 

the now seemly barren brook with only tufts

sticking from the rough dirt on the brink 

her alter ego Sophia had always tempered 

her measly mood-swings;  this time only

it was up the the wandering Voelva herself