The First Push

The crosses lined the mountain ridge

Men nailed in place

With thick wooden stakes

Hands bloodied messes

Ankles near torn in half

Their screams rained down on those below

If one fell silent

One of the Kilkenny’s would come

Pike in hand

And stab the man

So he would once more take up the cry

Their prisoners of war

Were these men

And cruel was this torture

But as I hid in the trees just below

I still felt guilty

For what was about to come

The swift death

The unrelenting efficiency

And the total destruction of their lives

Elder Amelia counseled

No mercy to those who profane

No second chances for those demons

I readied my bow

Michael had done a good job

The arrows were perfect

I drew back

Breath withdrawn

I aligned my aim

Released the breath

And let loose the missile

A gentle whistle

The man dropped

I placed a crooked finger

Between my lips

Letting forth a more piercing whistle

This was the signal

All along the ridge the underbrush moved

Palos watched over our advance

Kilkenny after Kilkenny fell to our blade and bow

He was proud

The ridge was ours almost immediately

Without a cry from their men

We slit the throats of our own

Hung from those beams

To cease their cries

To ease their pain

To warn the enemy

Death was come