Hermes the interpreter, intercessor,
and inconvenience eliminator I pray,
you who bear messages to and from
men and Gods and the dead
and make signs for us to find
in books, on billboards,
through songs and overheard snatches
of random conversation,
Hunt Master and pattern finder,
manipulator of meaning
and expert navigator of chaos and flux,
help me as once you came to the assistance
of waywinding Odysseus when he was
on the isle of the lovely sorcerous Queen
from the faraway barbarian North.
You gave him the flower that Óðr
once went in search of
which can transform even the stoniest of hearts,
taught him techniques for unbinding enchantments,
told him clever words to say
and how she liked a man who acted
direct, dominant and assertive,
and so it went well for him.
He did not become like one
of those wretched, sniveling, powerless beasts
who like to gorge themselves on soybeans
and wallow in filth, ignorant
of their true identities and potential.
Hermes, if it is within your power I pray,
likewise spare my people from such an ignoble fate.
It’s one thing to be lovely-thighed Kirke’s oinking footstool,
far worse to be reduced to a servile state by nothing,
bad politics, marketing and modernity.