Sit, Son sit.
Sit and hear my tale.
Regalias descended from the rafters,
Vermins, find you another home.
At last, the signal was heard,
Morse on taut leather
had beat out the message:
Moratorium had been murdered.
Long had we awaited
the sound we thought we’d never hear.
From the shed of the village blacksmith
We heard the huffs and clangs
and our hearts,
Our hearts jumped to the rhythm.
We reached for our barbed-headed spikes
bound by gossamers,
We reached for our shields
and light chased the gathered roaches.
The blood pulsed in our veins
As we made for the egress.
The fair sex clung to departing kilts,
Toddlers with dribbling noses echoed their cries.
But our hearts were pulled by strings
In the direction of the field.
Skilled digits on stretched skin
were beckoning, beckoning.
The enemies’ faith was in superior weapons
In superior passion was ours.
In passion and strategy and unity of purpose.
We had no illusions of victory with ease,
For we had been schooled by history.
The oppressor never willingly gives away freedom.
But that old volume we were bound on ending.
To begin a new chapter.
Finally, son, we charged the field.
The pink man’s contraption of death barked.
Metal found flesh,
Ear-splitting screams were testaments.
But as left and right, comrades fell,
And wraiths took leave of carcass,
We knew we could never fail.
We held ranks
And charged onward.
Our spears whizzed through the air,
they found their homes in targets.
Our swords drew life.
The screams we heard now were unfamiliar.
They were the tyrants’ yelps.
Ultimately, when the shadows travelled east-ward,
And the billowing dust had settled,
When the only sound we heard were the reverberations in our ears,
And the despot had been routed,
We had fought.
We had conquered.
Our victory song was loud.
No dirge was allowed.
We carried our fallen heroes home,
Theirs had been the blood that had sealed the old order,
Theirs, it had been, in whose lifeblood the quill was dipped,
To scribble the words on the first chapter
“TODAY, WE LOST MEN
BUT WE GAINED FREEDOM.
LET ALL MEN KNOW,
LET IT BE SHOUTED IN THE SQUARES,
LET IT BE WHISPERED AT NIGHT,
LET IT BE REPEATED WHEN MEN HUDDLE AROUND CAMP FIRES,
LET IT BE CARVED IN THE CHRONICLES,
LET HISTORY UPDATE HER SCROLLS,
TODAY, WE ARE FREE MEN,
WE ARE AND WILL REMAIN SO.”
We fought so because,
What we chose to leave for our children
Wasn’t an inheritance of shackles
And a cascade of excuses,
What we chose to leave for our progeny
Was a legacy of liberty
A reason to stand tall, live free.
Don’t let anyone take that from you.
AKPOVETA, Valentine ‘t