I am Sunna: A Golden Ode
I am Sunna
I was too young to remember, but am often forcefully reminded
of why Father named me as he did at my birth.
Born of gold, Father said.
Radiant, dazzling, bold.
He could tell right away that I was to shine brightest.
My brother,
Born of silver, Father said.
Shimmering, awe-striking, illusive.
Father loved us unwaveringly.
But to name me Sunna and my brother Maní,
After the celestial and brightest stars in the sky,
Was to bind our fates to the Gods
Until the day our forced immortality expires.
At first, I resented being plucked from comfortable familiarity,
becoming that star
Placed on a horse-drawn chariot, and chased by a wolf.
Immortality with the price of loneliness.
Millennia of making my rounds,
Catching sight of Maní in liminality,
Greeting Father at wake and watching him crone
Fate may gift us cruel threads,
But it’s what we do with those threads that dictate destiny.
I may be the barer of this orbit,
But I am not alone. I am not weak.
I was too young to remember, but am often forcefully reminded
of why Father named me as he did at my birth
Born of gold
And gold I shall be
Forever etching the orbit of life, divinity, and damnation
Until the day that I shall pass
Over time, I traversed and became known in all nine realms.
Cherished for my warmth and beauty
The abundance of joy and life, and
Feared by my wrathful illumination
None shall cower in darkness fore I blind in radiant zest
My threads of fate woven into a destiny I’m proud of.
What an honor it is
To flare in sync with the pulse of the realms
To befriend the farmer
To sparkle with elven magic
To singe darkness
Born of gold
And gold I shall be
I am not simply a feat to ignore in this world
Although some do try
I am the begetter of day
The sun of harvest
The bane of trolls
The ever glowing encompassment of glory
I am not simply dazzling and stark rejuvenation
Although some do redact
I am the begetter of blister
The boiler of plains
The glare of insolation
The ever raging resilience of battle
But, within the balance of seasonality,
My drive does reach its peak
The longest day of the year, to gift my brother respite
Exude your charisma, your strength, your soul’s breath
And stand with me
Scream with me
Laugh with me
Shine your light in addition to my cull
Fate may gift you cruel threads
But you are the weaver of your own destiny
Born of gold
And gold I shall be
That upon my final sprint,
On the day of endings,
To be consumed by that wolf as the realms plunder in ruin
A lasting gift emerges from my womb
A token of cyclical adoration
Born of gold
And gold she shall be
-
Hail Sunna!
-Alyssa
