The big longhouse stands empty and forlorn
Where has time the Goddess and her fallen souls borne
No smoke comes from the thick roof thatch
Only the high pitched call of a Nuthatch
No murmur of voices or happy drinking songs
Fields lying fallow all year long
Cold and ashy stand the hearth
When did Freya and the Æsirs depart?They didn’t go when we embraced Christ
They just hid in the stories of folklore
Maybe they tired when we our given paradise for convenience sake sacrificed
When we all connections to the Earth that birthed us forsworeThe big longhouse stands empty and forlorn
©RedCat
The sight setting a heart to mourn
No smoke comes from the thick roof thatch
Are our hopes dashed?
No murmur of voices or happy drinking songs
Leaving a distinct feeling of wrong
Cold and ashy stand the hearth
Is that the end for our Earth?
Written for tonight’s Poetics: Outside Looking In at dVerse, where we’re urged to “be voyeurs, peeping through windows and doors of a house”. I had another idea originally but my muse refused to be led anywhere but to this place.
All three images are of the reconstructed Iron Age longhouse in Körunda, Nynäshamns County from Wikimedia Commons.
The world according to RedCat 
Such incredible imagery here!
A great story of cultural changes and the questions they create. I love your poem and the photos are wonderful!
your Muse has a Nordic strain – perhaps the bloodline of Freya! This is a sad refrain and fallow field and cold ashy hearth is at the heart of it.
Awesome capture. Thanks.
This is exquisitely drawn! I am especially moved by; “Fields lying fallow all year long/Cold and ashy stand the hearth/When did Freya and the Æsirs depart?” 💝💝
You made me feel every emotion in this ~ beautiful poem
It really makes me wonder. When people respected the power of the great spirits and revered our mother, there was still hope. Now…
You made me remember visiting such a longhouse and imagining the lives shared in it. You convey that lost sense of community well.
It always fills me with hope to think of all the “lost” things that hide right under our noses, even now. This is well written, thank you.
Reblogged this on Vermont Folk Troth.