Dear Sigyn,

you fool.

We both know he doesn’t love you.

Catching the venom meant for his eye,

silent even though he should cry

out in fury at your meddling.

 

Dear Sigyn,

you fool.

Even the serpent laughs at you.

I’d think your body was through

even if your heart was still into

an idiot’s errand that no one would rue.

 

Dear Sigyn,

you fool.

The end of the world, and yet you stay true.

One child dead and the other a wolf,

and unhappily bound to him who

will never come to appreciate you.

 

Dear Sigyn,

you fool.

Preventer of earthquakes while your pain’s renewed.

It’s a course no other goddess would pursue

and modern women will rightly mock you –

but is this what love can make a person do?