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Hymn for Haltia

 Haltia , a Baltic goddess, is known for holding a house together. Her devotees greet her whenever they cross the sill. Considered the domestic benevolent glue, when one moves away, it is necessary to carry a pocket of hearth ashes for the new home.

 

Haltia, I’ve got my eye on you, even as I climb from rumbled bed covers, I meant to make up with neat corners, tribute to your nimble fingers removing pebbles from my path.  I meant to fluff the pillows, smooth the duvet. I meant to wash the dishes and wipe the counters because I know how you love to vex chaos, how you bring hearts to hum beside the calico.  I meant to splash three drops of lemon and clove into the diffuser, invite a hint of your fidelity along my shoulder. Instead, I rolled some floral essentials across a wrist and imagined meadows.  I am testing your sublime spirit, seeking blessings without alms. I am baiting you to shadow me under the hickory beams, help you understand how they miss their canopy – the whispers of nostalgia for wind along the catkins.  I meant to introduce you to the scarlet tanager nesting in the hackberry, the funnel of swallows, and of course, the triplet song of towhees in the hedgerows between houses. I meant to lure you beyond the green door into my favorite room, where we could swing hip to hip in a wide hammock, swatting gnats, forgetting to stir the soup and sweep the floor. I hoped you might prefer a moment askew, tracing paths of earwigs and earthworms in the duff to that of minding the cinnamon cakes so they don’t burn. Once you caught a drift of tall grass prairie, the velvet in a wetland breeze, you could put aside your deific duties and step outside with me.

Haltia, we ask too much.  Our first home has no walls and every window, a skin of ochre, blue and green, easy on divinity, another piece of place. Let’s press foreheads together, kiss nipples, so the rising sap will bring us to temple. Let our blessings gush from benevolence not of your making, but out of the surprises of our consilience. I have scattered the home ashes to settle among the sedum. Here sits the hearth where all is well with the world, all is well. 

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