Midnite
01-25-07, 06:27 PM
3 days had passed and our families were safe,
Our armies were massed and there was worry on his face,
The Pharaoh was not a man, he didn’t scared easily,
But there was doubt in his eyes and that all I would need,
I walked out ahead of my army, hand on the hilt,
Of my ebony blade, unquenchable, it needed blood to spill,
“What is your answer, will you let us pass,
Or is it war you want, and our bodies made to ash?”
The Pharaoh didn’t speak, but his answer was quite clear. His army split, and 4 men, no warriors, appeared, and approached mine, murderous intent, they could see it in my eyes. They stopped 10 meters from my position; only one of them was Egyptian. The Zulu stood tall holding spear and shield, the Abyssinian carried a curved sword, and the Malian held a sword so sharp, that it split grains of sand. 3 of men approached to give me assistance, I held up my fist, I would do this on my own, this I insisted.
I unsheathed my soul quencher, killer of essence,
And charged the 4 warriors in my presence,
The mighty Zulu raised his shield and threw his spear,
It went wide, just missing my right ear,
Still in stride, moving like a dream, my blade caught his shield,
Cut through it, now awake, the Zulu knew my blade was real,
The Mali and Abyssinian warriors attacked me in tandem,
Two against one, odds that I could manage,
The soft sands stifled their swift movement,
But mother feared me, my moves remained honest,
The Abyssinian stumbled in moving sands,
Shocked, I could the look in his eyes, fear,
The Malian moved past him, not lending a hand,
And the Abyssinian met eye to eye with a Zulu spear,
The Malian was strong, and he had much to prove,
Our swords clashed, and the Nile reversed course,
As strong as he was, he was my enemy,
I could not lose; I was a child of destiny,
Our battle was furious and without mercy,
Then the Malian spoke to me
“Why do this? Why do you fight?”
“You don’t know? They didn’t tell you?”
“Why do you persist? What you do isn’t right?”
“We seek a home, one we can never lose”
The look in my adversary’s eyes changed to a look of understanding, one of respect. We continued our fight, but he was now in honor’s debt. We were not savages, nor were we refugees, were no longer slaves, we were the fathers of a new society. The sands shifted yet again, and the Malian lost his footing. My sword met my new friend, and ended his heart’s movement.
Almost immediately the skies turned black, and I heard the screams of the men at my back. Arrows rained down from heaven, cutting down many of my brethren. I took an arrow to the chest, and knocked to my knees by one to my thigh. I wasn’t afraid of death, but this wasn’t my time to die. I brought myself to my feet, with wounds that continued to bleed, through gritted teeth and pain; I called out the War God’s name.
The winds of a monsoon swept, carrying sand and arrows towards my enemy. And then the screams…Screams that deafened many of my men, screams that could only be heard in Hell’s den. Then came a crimson flood, drowning yet more men in Egyptian blood. By the next morning, I had only a thousand men fit to fight. The Pharaoh had ten thousand me who could, but now refused to fight. Reluctantly, the Pharaoh asked to negotiate a truce, I agreed, and nothing left to lose. My men and people could pass through his lands, but under one condition. I was to stay behind as a guest of the Pharaoh’s prisons. My people would continue the mission; I would live out my life being beat into submission…
Our armies were massed and there was worry on his face,
The Pharaoh was not a man, he didn’t scared easily,
But there was doubt in his eyes and that all I would need,
I walked out ahead of my army, hand on the hilt,
Of my ebony blade, unquenchable, it needed blood to spill,
“What is your answer, will you let us pass,
Or is it war you want, and our bodies made to ash?”
The Pharaoh didn’t speak, but his answer was quite clear. His army split, and 4 men, no warriors, appeared, and approached mine, murderous intent, they could see it in my eyes. They stopped 10 meters from my position; only one of them was Egyptian. The Zulu stood tall holding spear and shield, the Abyssinian carried a curved sword, and the Malian held a sword so sharp, that it split grains of sand. 3 of men approached to give me assistance, I held up my fist, I would do this on my own, this I insisted.
I unsheathed my soul quencher, killer of essence,
And charged the 4 warriors in my presence,
The mighty Zulu raised his shield and threw his spear,
It went wide, just missing my right ear,
Still in stride, moving like a dream, my blade caught his shield,
Cut through it, now awake, the Zulu knew my blade was real,
The Mali and Abyssinian warriors attacked me in tandem,
Two against one, odds that I could manage,
The soft sands stifled their swift movement,
But mother feared me, my moves remained honest,
The Abyssinian stumbled in moving sands,
Shocked, I could the look in his eyes, fear,
The Malian moved past him, not lending a hand,
And the Abyssinian met eye to eye with a Zulu spear,
The Malian was strong, and he had much to prove,
Our swords clashed, and the Nile reversed course,
As strong as he was, he was my enemy,
I could not lose; I was a child of destiny,
Our battle was furious and without mercy,
Then the Malian spoke to me
“Why do this? Why do you fight?”
“You don’t know? They didn’t tell you?”
“Why do you persist? What you do isn’t right?”
“We seek a home, one we can never lose”
The look in my adversary’s eyes changed to a look of understanding, one of respect. We continued our fight, but he was now in honor’s debt. We were not savages, nor were we refugees, were no longer slaves, we were the fathers of a new society. The sands shifted yet again, and the Malian lost his footing. My sword met my new friend, and ended his heart’s movement.
Almost immediately the skies turned black, and I heard the screams of the men at my back. Arrows rained down from heaven, cutting down many of my brethren. I took an arrow to the chest, and knocked to my knees by one to my thigh. I wasn’t afraid of death, but this wasn’t my time to die. I brought myself to my feet, with wounds that continued to bleed, through gritted teeth and pain; I called out the War God’s name.
The winds of a monsoon swept, carrying sand and arrows towards my enemy. And then the screams…Screams that deafened many of my men, screams that could only be heard in Hell’s den. Then came a crimson flood, drowning yet more men in Egyptian blood. By the next morning, I had only a thousand men fit to fight. The Pharaoh had ten thousand me who could, but now refused to fight. Reluctantly, the Pharaoh asked to negotiate a truce, I agreed, and nothing left to lose. My men and people could pass through his lands, but under one condition. I was to stay behind as a guest of the Pharaoh’s prisons. My people would continue the mission; I would live out my life being beat into submission…