You
Found
Her
Concealed
In the
Long
Waving grass,
Eyes blank,
Hair matted,
The wind
Perfumed
By the
Stench of
Burnt flesh.
You saw
It
Coming-
His anger,
His
Rage,
The bitter
Green
Flame
Of your
Nephew's
Heart—
You thought
You could
Save him.
Shaking,
You took
Her tiny
Hand,
Leading
Her through
The
Cauterized,
Bisected
Dead
...they trusted
You…
…your
Own heart
Flaring
White-hot…
…you could
Avenge them…
…easily.
I am
Not
My
Father.
Instead,
Small
Hand
In
Large—
You
Lead
Her away
To a place
Of safety,
Letting your
Heart
Heal,
Revenge
Put aside…