by
Bobby Derie
Turlough fell before the walls of Urzurum,
A broad bronze spear through his stomach,
He lay trampled by his fellows as the moon rose,
And a tiny pink girl-child with a bronze knife kindly cut his throat.
Murdoc, son of Turlough, died guarding the tents of the clan,
With hunter's skill the thief waited for his prey in the shadows,
Her iron dagger coal-black to not reflect the moonlight,
And she watched as he bled out, shaking at her first kill.
Dubh was the widow's child, given as thrall to pay a debt,
His mother looked not on him again;
Captured in chains when the horse-men came,
And died in chains one long night many winters since.
Fianna was daughter of slaves, and knew not her people,
Dwelt forever among cast-down eyes and broken tusks,
Bled upon the floor where-ever and whenever her master took her,
And at sight of her stunted son, fought not for life.
Orin rose outcast, the unacknowledged bastard,
No favor, no friends, only a worn iron knife whet to a fine edge,
Freedom came in the moonless night as a chain of bleeding throats,
And in the dark swamp, he became a legend would-be masters feared.
Talin, orc-child, conceived in pain one dark night,
Born in pain, his mother knew him,
When of age, his father knew him,
And yet, will he know himself?
The orcs break upon the walls,
The orcs slave and are enslaved,
The orcs rape and are raped,
The circle must break.
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