Back on the island, Perlamene waited,
For Poepi’s audience, to be completed,
But after hours, and hours, gone by,
Becoming impatient, she wondered, why,
Poepilandia, had not come home,
Regretting that she went alone.
Finally Perla left the castle,
And went outside, and saw her vassals,
Of Humrecs, and Reywals,in march formation,
Throughout the Giant’s sparkling nation.
“The giant has left!” “Princess Poepi is missing!”
“The Dungeon is breached! The Palace is flooding!”
And as more soldiers answered questions,
The more she pondered, the suggestion,
That her sister caused this mess,
And set their splendid lives amiss.
She fled down to, her castle garden,
Where weeks before, full of arden,
Bar, and his departing soldiers,
Had left her there, brash and bolder,
Whispered full, of thoughts and whims,
As when she first arrived with him.
She bit down, hard, her lower lip,
And round her neck, she touched the clip,
Hanging from its silver charm,
A sapphire teardrop, flaming warm.
“Hold it tight and wish for me,”
Bar had told her, seriously,
“Whenever you are facing harm,
This charm will bring me to your arms.”
This seemed one such emergency,
And so she counted, 1-2-3,
And gripped the charm in her hand,
And held it to her bosoms, grand,
And closed her eyes and restlessly,
Chanted loud, “Bar come to me!”
Over and over in rhythmic rent,
She spoke until her voice was spent.
And suddenly, the air did flow,
A little quicker and aglow,
With an image, hazy smeared,
Until a body’s shape appeared,
But looking smashed and bloody red,
All bent and fractured, with broken head.
“Bar Kamal Kamock!” Perla cried,
Kneeling to fall, by his side,
Holding his skull, in cradled arms,
Forgetting the city and raised alarms.
”My brother has killed me” he wastingly said,
An army is coming by sea, windy sped!
The city we love, shall be overrun,
Unless our call to arms is sung.”
“The bells are rung” she quietly said.
“Good,” he replied. “then in my stead,
You must, now help, defend the city,
For no more time, is left in me.”
Then he clasped her hands in love,
Putting his magic, upon her gloves.
A transfer of will, a mystical glow,
One last exchange, tender and slow.
Out of Bar’s touch, in dower hour,
Straight into Perla, passed his power.
Bar let his hand drop back to ground,
Last breath expiring, softest sound.
“I love you Bar!” Perla cried,
“I love you Bar! Please don’t die!”
Sharing their last, lover’s eyes,
More tears came, and more they cried,
Until, in her ear, rasping “Goodbye”
Bar coughed once, and shamefully died.
Shaking and quaking, Perlamene stood,
Stunned into silence, shocked out of mood,
Hanging down limp, head in hands,
Staring out bland, at the city lands.
Looking away, from bloody stains,
Heaving and wheezing, breaths full of pain,
Tearing her hair, and beating arms bare,
Inflicting self hurt, not daring to care.
Broken inside, she fell to the eaves,
Raising wet eyes, to look past her sleeve,
Over tall buildings, and out to sea,
Glaring past trees, despaired as could be.
And then she felt the town grounds shake.
Beneath her feet, they rolled, they quaked,
First in just a little quiver,
Second in a larger shiver,
Until they grew up, strong and violent,
While she watched them, oddly silent.
Soon they shook her to the ground,
And when there came, the rushing sound,
Of bubbling, gurgling, flooding waters,
Swirling sticks, and bloody fodder,
Perlamene heard herself, loud shrieking,
“Help us! Oh Help us! The Island is sinking!”