Representational Image | Courtesy: Gioele Fazzeri, Unsplash

The Last Battle: The Capture, The sacrifice

October 14, 2022

Today, the sun is like a burst of citrine

A blinding ball of splendour

My captive heart remains defiant still

I wear my soul like a sabre


Chains around our ankles

The whip has found its rhythm

A man in a robe exhorts

But all I hear is what my father whispers


The wisdom of the white oak

How it survives when all is lost

Scorn dripping down its branches

It stands without fear


Songbirds trill biting arias outside the empty walls

But my hardened heels desire spiky grass

I want to hear it sprout, rebellious, serrated

Cool turf beneath


The earth’s magnetic pull makes me take another step

While I tread on the sharp edges of the world

My errant feet cut, split, torn down

This is a journey into the nameless


I follow somnolent, each syllable like a spell

Offering myself at an altar, a cutlass dancing around my throat


I should scream in terror

Instead, I sigh in delight

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