by Nick Gisburne
Three princes seal him in a secret room,
But, conjuring deceit, beyond their sight,
A single spark, an instrument of doom,
Ignites the sky, to slice and split the night.
A reaching, writhing misery descends.
It creeps in coils of flesh and sable smoke,
The goddess of a thousand evil ends,
Compelled by curses, sins the shaman spoke.
Awakened from a time-tormented spell,
From which her soul, imprisoned, surges free,
She pulls her scheming saviour from his cell,
To ask him, “Why release me now? Why me?”
“My goddess, lover, queen. My life. My breath.
Our sons betrayed us. Let them pay, with death.”
