A Loss of an Heir

Prologue

Sixteen moons will come to pass.

When winter will cometh again;

Fire will breathe in the southern lands

A true born heir will lose their claim.

A father will set his eyes for below,

A mother will fall to her despair,

A son to bare, to hold, and sorrow,

As her daughter will suffocate-

A loss of an heir.

Father

The resounding battle cries,

The clash of metal

The still of the sea of bodies,

As the fields turning burgundy red.

Father will be on the losing side

An arrow flew from the eastern men

And took him to his grave.

Now, father sets his eye on his children

His eyes towards his heirs below.

Son

A labour for our sweet Son, now

One a terrible pain and fear.

For Mother had said goodbye to her love

Not less than an hour pass.

“Daughter dear, call for someone sweet”

She whispered, “It’s time to meet your

new sibling.” The daughter ran to the

village. Three women came and followed.

One woman to hold Mother’s hand,

A second to give instruction,

A third took third daughter’s hand

And went to pick some daisies.

The baby’s cried never came.

Mother

Mother’s grief never left her,

She took to sitting in her chair

Her gaze- glazed over, straight ahead

Wearing a spot in the wall.

“Mommy,” Her daughter would call,

Tugging at her dress. “Mummy, mummy,

mummy.” She never flinched,

her eyes dimming at the wall.

She would let food pass her mouth

her eyes growing grey and sallow.

Bones seen under skin

the skin fragile and thin.

Until such morning her daughter

came. To see for change on mother.

She had lost her son and heir.

Daughter

Scraped knees on the bloody mud,

Her cheeks stained clear and true.

She has lost everything dear to her

thirteen years a pass to war.

“Please” She says,

“For Father, Son and Daughter, take to

have mercy upon me, m’lord.

I ‘ave no part to play in the walls.”

She’ll tell you a story of hate.

She’ll sing you a song of despair.

She’ll write you a letter of love.

And she’ll offer you a liege for peace.

In a rage of drunken mess

Your hands will itch for life

To wrap your hands around her throat

And watch her life seep out.

You’ll burn her body upon a spike

Her screams silent in the night

You’ll feel the softness of her maiden skin

To the touch-

Of your calloused tips.