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                    [Title] => On forgiving the unforgivable
                    [Summary] => I know I hung on that windswept tree,

Swung there for nine long nights, 

Wounded by my own blade, 

Bloodied for Odin,

Myself an offering to myself:

Bound to the tree 

That no man knows

Whither the roots of it run

None gave me bread,

None gave me drink.

Down to the deepest depths this I peered 

Until I spied the Runes.

With a roaring cry seized them up, 

Then dizzy and fainting, I fell.

Well-being I won 

And wisdom too.

From a word to a word,

I was led to a word,

From a deed to another deed.


                    [DatePublished] => 2002-12-02 00:00:00
                    [ColumnID] => 133225
                    [Focus] => 0
                    [AuthorID] => 1386314
                    [AuthorName] => Jess Q. Cruz
                    [SectionName] => Arts and Culture
                    [SectionUrl] => arts-and-culture
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ANGIE BAESA

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                    [ArticleID] => 186313
                    [Title] => On forgiving the unforgivable
                    [Summary] => I know I hung on that windswept tree,

Swung there for nine long nights, 

Wounded by my own blade, 

Bloodied for Odin,

Myself an offering to myself:

Bound to the tree 

That no man knows

Whither the roots of it run

None gave me bread,

None gave me drink.

Down to the deepest depths this I peered 

Until I spied the Runes.

With a roaring cry seized them up, 

Then dizzy and fainting, I fell.

Well-being I won 

And wisdom too.

From a word to a word,

I was led to a word,

From a deed to another deed.


                    [DatePublished] => 2002-12-02 00:00:00
                    [ColumnID] => 133225
                    [Focus] => 0
                    [AuthorID] => 1386314
                    [AuthorName] => Jess Q. Cruz
                    [SectionName] => Arts and Culture
                    [SectionUrl] => arts-and-culture
                    [URL] => 
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abtest

On forgiving the unforgivable

By Jess Q. Cruz | December 2, 2002 - 12:00am

I know I hung on that windswept tree, Swung there for nine long nights, Wounded by my own blade, Bloodied for Odin, Myself an offering to myself: Bound to the tree That no man knows Whither the roots of...

Arts and Culture