She towers over the barren battlefield,
Her blank slate scoured by blood.
Shades of ancient sires
Whisper to the birds.
The banner of birth.
A halo of infinity
Crowns her blond head.
A glistening goblet rests at her feet.
Broken by a star of five,
Lies drifting on the briars.
Is wrapped inside a crimson cloak.
She looks up into the heavens,
The Lady smiles upon her majesty.
Ravens carry off the corpse of history,
Wisps of smoke
Ascend into the smiling skies.
A future, there is not
Until she wills it into being.
Sheathing her blade,
She lifts a wand from the ground,
And raises it into the air.
The seer, the shepherd and the priest
Bow before her.
From blood and muck they are raised by her hand.
And by her will
She remakes their world.
About the Author: Tuur Verheyde is a twenty-two year old Belgian poet and student, currently completing a Master’s Degree in English, Literature and linguistics at the University of Ghent. Although Dutch is his first language, Tuur writes poetry exclusively in English. His poetry focuses on combining politics, spirituality and highbrow and lowbrow culture.