A Nid On Nazis
Grace from Helsinki, who wishes to be otherwise anonymous, watched the Nazis of Charlottesville using Mjollnir flags and was angered into writing this nid song.
I disdain you, who squeal in your sty in the name of Whiteness and Europe but has never set a foot in the land your ancestors came from.
You’ve never sat under an old ashtree, felt our ancient soil under your feet.
You’ve never seen the Northern Lights, felt their power run trough your blood.
Blood and soil? You know nothing.
I despise you, with your mouth so big and your gibberish so gross that even Loki is embarrassed.
I despise you, for you talk so loud that I can’t hear the wind in the birch trees anymore.
I despise you, for your ignorance is so deep that not a single one of my Kinsmen would accept you at his table.
We are Heathens. We don’t preach universal love. We won’t turn the other cheek.
I am Heathen. I won’t preach universal love. I won’t turn the other cheek. I wont let you dishonour my name, my Kin, my ancestors, my Gods.
An entire life. I’ve spent my entire life justifying myself. Explaining who I was. Where I came from. Apologising for daring to wear a Mjöllnir on my dark skin.
Should I keep proving you whose blood runs in my veins?
Should I keep waiting for your permission to be who I am?
When the horns blow, my heart races.
When I walk in our Northern European forests I meet my ancestors and my Gods.
What is it that you claim having that I don’t?
Blood doesn’t matter to you.
If it did, you would have dropped long time ago persecuting us, the mixed people.
You would have considered that our white half gave us the right to join you on the bright side.
If it did, you would have dropped long time ago persecuting any other Heathens.
You would have considered that real dedication gives the right to belong were one deserves.
You don’t respect blood, bloodlines, ancestors, kindreds, tribes.
You just hide behind theses words to justify your fear and your absolute absence of self-esteem.
I despise you. As a Heathen, I despise you for being so weak, fearful and coward.
For lying to yourself and your own, and being too lazy to seek for the truth.
Could you hang yourself for nine days?
Would you give an eye for Knowledge?
Does your woman try to save you from the poison you’re shoving down your own throat?
I will keep wearing my Mjöllnir, quiet and fierce.
I will keep staring right back at you when you look at me with hate.
I will defend myself with it.
I will attack with it.
I will build with it, stone by stone.
Blood matters. The blood you’re willing to lose. The blood you’re willing to honour.
Not the one you earned doing nothing but crawling out of your mother’s womb.
No mercy when the time comes.
I despise you, for you talk so loud that I can’t hear the wind in the birch trees anymore.
