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Summary

The poem "Serpent in Your Mind" uses Norse mythology to explore the concept of imposter syndrome, likening it to the Midgard Serpent, Jörmungand, which encircles and constricts the individual's potential and self-worth.

Abstract

"Serpent in Your Mind: A Norse Psychology Poem" is a profound piece that delves into the depths of self-doubt and imposter syndrome through the allegory of the Midgard Serpent, Jörmungand, from Norse mythology. The poem conveys the feeling of being insignificant and mundane, a mere Midgard among the grandeur of other worlds and beings. It portrays the serpent as a suffocating presence that coils around the mind, reminding the individual of their perceived limitations and failures. The narrative contrasts the fearless Norse raiders with the poem's subject, who feels overwhelmed by the serpent's grip, unable to resist or defy their inner doubts. The poem suggests an inevitable confrontation with one's own demons, akin to Ragnarök, where the cycle of self-doubt may be broken.

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Poetry. Imposter Syndrome. Norse Mythology

Serpent in Your Mind: A Norse Psychology Poem

This Creature Names You: Imposter in Your Own Mind.

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You are Midgard, only one of nine worlds. You cannot see beyond your boundaries. Cannot conceive of the image stone, rune-cast mind-circling and massive serpent. slithering and coiling, oiling in the darkness of you.

This creature names you: imposter in your own mind. You are only one world, middling and mundane. Above you rides the long boats in the dark sky ocean. Raiders built of ceramic muscles, shining with sea spray Urged by the thin woman with a staff curled with silver Undoubted men and women, fearless, surging into the unknown, where all is for the taking.

This is not you. Jörmungand encircles you, tightens his caress around your deep-world mind Weaving along the sea floor, rotten in the cold but calm under-ocean placid are you, lulled by the hissing in the silence of the room

An ouroboros coiled around you, squeezing joy from the breath you take. Oil is Jörmungand’s clam, cold skin, holding sway over near emptiness. Crumbling vertebrae and ropes of veins And the memory of the flesh that was once thick and solid.

Was it? It is so long ago, you hardly remember. Bound you are, by the snake of failed things, Of joyless spaces, of empty husks. Old as fear. This Midgard Serpent. This judgment, coiled around your soul. You cannot breathe. You are no Thor. You will not resist Jörmungand. You will not stand beneath the poison sky and defy him. You will not walk the nine paces before your death

You are only Midgard. But Ragnarök will come soon enough

First published Horror Writers Anthology 2018

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Poetry
Fantasy
Imposter Syndrome
Norse Mythology
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