Exile

We wander this land
our exile from peace.
The ogres have won the horrific battle.
We're torn from home.
Nowhere to go but the lonely desert.
No trees.
So cold in the night.

We remember the old days.
Our land so fertile.
Water so fresh and clean.
We laughed in the days and
danced in the evening.

Our people stood together and 
planned happy futures for the children.
Weddings for the young,
Loving farewells to the old.

Bright sunrises, tending the crops,
Hunting for wintertide, stocking up.
Communal meals.
Sunsets together with music playing.

Then the beasts came riding in on dragons.
Despoiling all they touched.
Foul-smelling and unkempt -
the least of their bane.

They hurt us,
murdered,
burned,
raped,
stole our children for  slaves.

We gathered those we could save 
and made our way here.
The sentinels are posted,
They hide below the next field.

Our homes, our village
All torched to ashes.
The grotesque mutants are still on the march,
Voracious.
We see the smoke in the distance as
they take down other villages.

What will the morrow bring?
Will they return?
The uncertainty overwhelms.
We need our home. We are our home.
The worst of the terror is...
We may never trust peace again.

©Ellen Pepper 2025