Deborah Dambani Poet Epic

An Epic Story

AN EPIC STORY- FICTION 

In a chase, she rode far east at the sun's wake,
the wind daintily throwing her wig as the horse tread
into black fields in dawn's glare,
stained red with a colour of her days;
her thighs grew weary,
dangled like broken mahogany,
tugging pain into grey eyes,
as blood thickened over cold gash.

she stumbled off the horse at the sigh of a swooshing arrow,
aimed at her son but pierces her heart, 
drawing her last breath unto the
canvas of the morning sky; 
nursed to sleep by the earth
in the sight of her creator,
she died for one.

shrills...
Her young awakened at the fall
shrouded in a dark veil
 fastened around her back like a knapsack,
his wails jolted her breathless self, but to no avail 

the sun fell at the rise of an evil in the west
a mother's love put to a fatal test,
a death or a death,
but her son liveth
saved by her last breath.

For she had climbed down a window a night before,
facing a street hazy with smoke
and red with blood and fire, 
but with the wound on her limb festering
from a cut in the moment of her flee
she couldn't get too far,
even on a horse's back,
but her son was safe,
only for a day 
longer than it would have been,
for the fields were no place for a new born.

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