Tag: northern tradition pagan

Waiting

I am a woman waiting for an apocalypse
One day, my howling children will pluck the stars from the sky
They will consume their heavenly bodies
and shit stardust for Aftertimes.

I am a woman waiting for an apocalypse
One day my erstwhile lover will captain a ship of the Dead to battle
They will fight the einherjar; dead will fight dead will fight dead
and my lover will kill, and be killed by his old foe.

I am a woman waiting for an apocalypse,
One day, the sea will roil with rage, my serpentine child rearing up for Revenge
Their life will be lost,
but Thor will fall dead within Nine steps.

I am a woman waiting for an apocalypse,
One day, the Chaos I bore will free himself, eyes blazing, jaws wide to catch up
the One Eyed One, swallowed whole
before he himself is torn asunder

I am a woman waiting for an apocalypse
One day, my daughter will open the gates wide
She will welcome her siblings, and
the dead will march back down the Hel-road home again

I am a woman waiting for an apocalypse,
One day, the crowing of Fjalar will rouse my children to the final battle.
Then, all debts will be paid,
In full, and in Blood.

I am a woman, waiting for an apocalypse,
One day, all I have seen will come to pass.
I bide my time in the East, with my wild children,
honing the blade of my knife.

I am a Woman.
Waiting for the Apocalypse.

—-
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Waiting by Úlfdís is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.

The Road to Hel

 

They say “The road to Hel is paved with good intentions.”

(Yes)

(And Intestines, the restless writhing mess,
it is paved with the teeth of the dead
from mouths made sour by words unsaid

Its paved with the sharp shins,
the straight spines shattered,
the knee of those who remain unbending

The Road to Hel is paved with the skulls of your enemies
If thy enemies are Cowardice, Shame and Fear
for it is that conquered road which will bring peace.

Its paved with the hands of many
untold ages, lifting you up
guiding you to a long Remembered place.

The Road to Hel is caked with the mud
of ten hundred thousand times ten thousand journeys
and the strange prints of those who came before.

Its lit with the stories
of the walks to this door:

“Life is a slow march towards Death”

and

“You have gone nowhere Someone hasn’t walked before”

and that on this road, is comforting.)

Yes.

The Road to Hel is paved with good intentions.

—-
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The Road To Hel by Úlfdís is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.

Gnosis, Wisdom, Knowledge

Ages ago, Odin set out to wander the Nine Worlds,
in search of knowledge, and he’s never stopped.
He hung from the Great Tree for Nine Nights,
to obtain the Runes.
When wise Mimir was beheaded,
Odin took the head, worked spells over it,
and kept it for counsel.
To He Who Guards the Well,
His eye he sacrificed to see all.
From the embrace of the daughter of Suttung,
he won back the stolen blood of Kvasir,
the gift of poets, of inspiration.
Against Vafthrdnir he wagered his life
that He knew, and Vafthrdnir is no more.
From her mound, Heith he raised
the wand wielding witch,
Volva brought forth to prophecy,
of the end, and the creation.
Queer things did Freya teach him,
when willingly He wove that wyrd,
seething and shaking in spā.
With Frigga he share his high seat,
and the fates of all men she leaves unspoken.
He who is frenzy wanders to this day,
Gangleri on the road, ever searching for more to know.

—-
Creative Commons License
Gnosis, Wisdom, Knowledge by Úlfdís is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.