The Fall
Shrieks…Shhrieekss…Shrieeeeekkks echoed off of the mountaintop peaks.
Then came the drums. Then came the drums…
This is the way that the enemy comes.
The noble army mounted up, and raced to meet the brazen foe.
Catherine’s heart was full of dread and it was hard to watch them go.
Safe inside the castle gates, torches blazing round the wall.
The Northern Tower lit the sky then suddenly began to fall.
Gasping…grasping just a hint: Begins the disillusionment.
Horizon glowing orange and red, then fading into blackened sky,
Pressure, panic so intense, it proved impossible to cry.
Hollowed, resonating drums; horses’ hooves on hardened ground,
Eyes were strained atop the wall to catch the sight of any sound.
Where are You King of the Kingdom?
I wait for the host to ride in…
And balance the scale stacked against us,
In faith I am claiming the win.
Where are you King? On the Mountain?
Are you aware of our fall?
Are you detained on the Mountain?
Why won’t you come when I call?
Now is the hour, My Father,
Please come and spare me. I fear.
The Light moved engulfing the lantern…
“Listen, My love, I am here.”
Silence…pounding in her ears.
Terror… backed against the wall.
Facing fast the truth at last
She’d lived to watch the Kingdom fall.
Chills are dancing up her spine.
Tears now trickling down her cheek.
Standing in the floating ash,
Far too terrified to speak.
“Swallow hard and gain control,” so screams the disillusioned soul.
Shrieks continued off the hills and echoed back the sound of drums.
Closer…faster…closer faster,
Comes the cup of her disaster…
Deep inside, so scared to death,
There lived the Maiden, Catiebeth.
They came for her at darkest night; she’d hoped they’d take her fast.
Instead they killed the others first and saved the Maid for last.
Humiliation, degradation, soon impending death,
They put a chain around her neck,
And shackled Catiebeth.
They pulled her from her rightful seat and tore her royal coat,
They placed her on a wagon, with the chain around her throat.
Catherine can feel it, the panic is growing,
She wants to be faithful, her weaknesses showing,
Growing, the panic. The mountains are shaken.
“Help me! I’m losing!” The victory is taken.
They drove her to the village square, and chided, “Where’s the lady?’
Into the vat of public shame,
Immersed the maiden, Catie.
Tangled in cords that would bind her to death,
Chained to the terrified girl, Catiebeth,
Catherine could feel the cold hands of the grave,
She’d passed every hope of presenting as brave.
Fallen.
Just silence.
The bell didn’t ring.
No army of soldiers.
No Covenant King.