At night; your men are armed to teeth/ the timbre of their boots outside my gates/ a proposal past.
A river; the rock split into blood and /thorns seducing their way out /miserable gaps of solitude.
The dogs; rising to the occasion/ pouring their vile hatred of you/ signalling your imminent arrival.
The house; your kind turned it upside down/ my mother still mourns the lampshade/ that saw the sole of your boot.
The voice; the call to prayer is amiss/ the voice has been defiled/ the echoes of dismissal from our homes/ are alive.
The fate; that they caught you alive is regretful/ and worse/ the lights are grim as the night/ our door has had many visitors of late.