DeadEndShrineOnline/runes/09_hagalaz.html

<title>Hagalaz</title>
<p><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/>
	stagnating.</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>