I remember the words of my Elder:
Each telling you are creating the World anew.
Words have power, raw magic, refined magic
However they slide up the throat along
the shuddering chords
They seize ahold of us through the ears, the eyes
hold us because through them
we hold You, us, Worlds, Ancestors, vaettir
The whole body hears and feels
The cold pit in the stomach, the sweat on the brow, the widened eyes, fear,
The heat, creased forehead, gritted teeth, rage
Words crush the soul
Revive a religion
Join us to one another
The telling creates the Worlds anew.