Blood Harpie

Rum, Blood and Smoke
the scents fill the room
as a wizened old man
pounds out a rhythm
with a gnarled cane

The beat echoes
off cement walls
as a chorus repeats
a dire song from a large man
with a deep, booming voice

The words reach out
racing between vines and
across moss covered ground
to a power long rested

she’s been in hibernation
waiting for her people to call

Stirring at the sound
she rises and smiles
her cry echoing
in the surrounding forest

She comes, now
on wings of smoke
with breath of fire
and claws dripping with blood

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