Atefeh's Dance

Hated by one and all,
The lone warrior strong,
Slaved to shed her pride tall,
A prisoner of her clan's wrongs.

Captured in a battle lost,
From the lowly lands of Ezgadarh,
She chose death eternal over life,
But the King had made her serve.

A symbol of loss she was to them,
The once beautiful shinning pearl,
Who sliced the dew with delicate dance,
Was now no more than a lowly slave.

Stripped of her vigour strong,
She bowed by the royal throne,
Bound by chains of shame unseen,
She reminded all of His mighty strength.

The war forgotten, time had rolled,
She was cast amongst the guards,
Her lance dulled, spirit gone,
She was now a mere guard.

She guarded the inner chambers,
Where His two little sons now played,
She hated them all, every drop in her vein,
But for the promise, her hands never swayed.

The little ones but liked her much,
The dark mysterious lonesome guard,
Who smelt of beauty and battles far,
Intrigued, they would often flock to her.

They looked at her with a different gaze.
A gaze of no disdain or hate,
An innocent look of earnest shine,
Put her hateful heart to shame.

And then she made a promise new,
Not the one she made to Him,
Not dyed with blood and shame,
A promise to be an earnest friend.

She would often tell them tales,
Of beauty and truth of Ezgadarh,
Of meadows golden in end of spring,
Of hidden falls where fairies shone.


Sneaking past the careful gaze,
Of the elite castle maids,
They listened to her with eyes all wide,
To them, she was more than a lowly guard.

When all stories told, they one day did ask,
Why she, a warrior once bold and strong,
Was now just a guard at the door,
To which she she would only smile

"Honoured was I, feared and loved,
Free was I, beautiful and tall,
But I lost my freedom and fame,
To your king my honour did fall".

"Strong are you, beautiful and tall,
A warrior better than many a man,
You may have lost your honour once,
But can you not reclaim it back?"

The earnest question filled her eyes,
For it was a long time since
Any eye had not looked down
On her darkened lonely self.

And chance she got indeed one night,
The enemies had struck the King's lair,
The guards had fallen swift and weak,
But only she had stood in the horizon bleak.

She took the princes into the innermost rooms,
And hid them in a cupboard low,
And cried, "Today, I shall redeem myself,
O King, you shall now forever be in my debt".

And as the wolves poured into the room,
With sinister laugh they taunted her
"Why do you fight, O lowly slave?
Give us the prince, dont be brave"

She raised her lance with a sneering smile,
"I am Atefeh, the black pearl of Ezgadarh,
Slave to the King, but friend to the prince,
I warn you all, None Shall Pass!"

Through a crack, they saw her fight,
A fountain of deadly grace,
Freezing hearts of foes and friends alike,
They watched  that night, Atefeh's dance.

Surrounded on all, but barely touched,
The sharpened fangs of her graceful lance,
Sliced the air in thousand strips,
Fear had gripped her enemie's legs.

The lance  struck through the hearts of few,
Splattering blood on faces and walls,
She moved like the wind and slid like the dew,
As her lance cut through her enemie's hearts.

But alas, one of the dying wolves,
Managed to strike, before he fell,
Seeing her fall, they got new life,
And jumped on her with baleful yell.

Yet she held her lance now wet,
Dripping blood of hers and all,
She cut through all that dared to pass,
A demon, enamoured in blood.

And as the last of them did finally fall,
She sunk in the warmth of her own blood,
But her lips did smile, as her eyes drew shut,
Not all she loved was forever lost.

The royal guards did later come,
To a horrific scene of bloodied death,
Rejoiced they all, the princes were safe,
The King then came to save the day.

Amongst a fifty dead wolves she lay,
Drowned in a pool of her raging blood,
And as the King did try to cross,
Halted was he by the princes young.

"You had robbed her of honour,
You had put her to shame,
Yet, on this day she has regained,
O my King, you have lost this game".

The King was shocked to hear them thus,
But he acknowledged his defeat atlast,
To Ezgadarh, he journeyed next,
And built a statue of her dancing self.

To its people the princes sang,
The fearsome dance of Atefeh's lance,
The lost black pearl of Ezgadarh,
Finally had come back to them.