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<p class="center"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Runic_letter_haglaz_variant.svg"><img src="../img/runes/hagalaz.svg" alt="Hagalaz rune" title="Hagalaz rune"></a></p>
<h1>Hagalaz</h1>
<p>Traditional meaning: hail</p>
<p>Meanings when upright:</p>
<ul>
<li>the Eschaton</li>
<li>deep roots of Yewiffe</li>
<li>repressed memories</li>
<li>winter/darkness/silence</li>
<li>water</li>
<li>creative destruction</li>
<li>upcoming crisis/trauma</li>
<li>good outcomes from forced change</li>
<li>mystic/magician/priest</li>
</ul>
<p>Meanings when inverted:</p>
<ul>
<li>sky-scraping branches of Yewiffe</li>
<li>a bright sunny future</li>
<li>stagnation</li>
</ul>
<p>Hagalaz can be useful for:</p>
<ul>
<li>shadow work</li>
<li>absorbing negative energy</li>
<li>connecting with the dead</li>
<li>sifting through the past</li>
<li>creating disruptions</li>
</ul>
<hr>
<p>Anglo-Saxon rune poem:</p>
<blockquote>Hægl byþ hwitust corna;<br>hwyrft hit of heofones lyfte,<br>wealcaþ hit windes scura;<br>weorþeþ hit to wætere syððan.</blockquote>
<blockquote>
Hail is the whitest of grain;<br>it is whirled from the vault of heaven<br>and is tossed about by gusts of wind<br>and then it melts into water.</blockquote>
<p>Norwegian rune poem:</p>
<blockquote>Hagall er kaldastr korna;<br>Kristr skóp hæimenn forna.</blockquote>
<blockquote>Hail is the coldest of grain;<br>Christ created the world of old.</blockquote>
<p>A modern poem:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Blow the ashes in their eyes,<br/>
the gentle breath they do despise.<br/>
The hail comes down, delivered by the wind<br/>
you said was my wealth, my dividend.</p>
<p>I cannot help who I am,<br/>
or what I have become.<br/>
And who I have turned into<br/>
is a gleaming no one,<br/>
nobody at all.</p>
<p>You told me<br/>
we were<br/>
<strong>stagnating</strong>.</p>
<p>Self-baptismal in just-thawed lake<br/>
I had just enough strength to break<br/>
the surface of, watch the ice shatter<br/>
like that which gave birth to you: the mirror.<br/>
You swore to be my eternal blue,<br/>
and my skin now swears by the same hue,<br/>
lake draining into a trickle of a stream<br/>
that, if followed, will drain into Yewiffe,</p>
<p>into a root of midnight hands<br/>
and walking home from shift at the grill<br/>
wondering, what if I, feral, disappeared<br/>
into those lonely snow-blanketed lands<br/>
that bordered me at every turn?<br/>
Highway headlights also a stream<br/>
draining into boundless woods<br/>
where I easily could swear I would<br/>
disappear with you as if in a dream.</p>
<p>Sablade, I promised, would be cloaked<br/>
in sunny promising eternal spring,<br/>
but the thought of ever losing you bades me<br/>
to accept hail's cloak, frozen sleeping.</p>
</blockquote>
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