Poem 2

Chapter 2: The Call

 

They’d brought a woman to the highest tower and we’d gathered to watch like it was a show.

They’d said she was the heir and exile, the last of the bloodline with claim to the throne.

 

Truth be told

This was the third woman exiled as the last heir

The third iteration of a lost daughter found.

They neglect to mention that there had been two daughters – sisters –

Who’d escaped that night.

 

Perhaps

To speak of her is to conjure her again

To make her vulnerable.

Let her be forgotten and live.

 

The mage stands hooded, calm.

The orator rallies the crowd with cries of “Our King!” “His Omnipotence!”

The woman trembles.

Amidst the fanfare and before the executioner can slip the noose around her neck

She leaps.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *