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In the Footsteps of Frigga

Hail the strength of the Mother

left bereft yet living on

The loss of son so sharp

the air is made of knives

carving out our hearts

with each inhale

and exhale into guilty joys

that likewise sting, un-shared

over hurried meals.


Rebuilding my house of life

from yesterday’s rubble

Placing bruised bricks carefully

atop wounded wood

painting over scars that

bleed through layers of time

Perhaps fainter now, but readable

to the trained eye.


Self, treat me well, as well as I tried,

and we will half-heal into a state

stronger than our former wholeness.


Christie (Foxnose) Schaefer (she/they) lives in New Orleans now, but has been many places. A practicing rune reader and norse animist magic-worker, she is in constant search of knowledge. They also spend an inordinate amount of time just observing people and the landscape. Her work explores the deep feelings of motherhood, what it is to be human right now, and kinship in general. She eats a lot of candy.

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