Hvitakristr Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

The North wind blows, a new tale starts,
Of gods and men, and changing hearts.

No Norse Jesus, quite the same,
But whispers rise in Odin's name.

He hung on tree, Yggdrasil tall,
A spear-wound deep, to answer all.
For wisdom sought, a sacrifice,
Like Christ who paid the highest price.

Then Baldr bright, with shining face,
Lost to darkness, time, and space.
His death, a grief, a mournful plea,
A promise whispered, 'He will be.'

'White Christ, ' they called the Savior then,
HvítaKristr, among the men.
A clean robe, pure, a shining light,
Or weakness, in the Viking sight?

They told his story, brave and bold,
A warrior King, as tales were told.
Like heroes strong, in ages past,
A way to make the new faith last.

So Odin's pain, and Baldr's grace,
Helped Norsemen see God's gentle face.
In sacrifice and hope reborn,
A bridge was built, that chilly morn.

T.M.Solvang