I No Go Bow

The throne of Vodun.

A Niri king sits where the Bondye once sat.

Grand Bois Loa stands outside Kal Mysters walls-

he comes to parle.

How many more Loas must be defeated -

before there are no more?

Grand Bois came to the courtyard, hands open wide,

"Ce trône est volé. Restore the Vodun pride."

Then his man spoke. "We talk to the Bondye now."

I raised my hand. "I am king of Vodun. Talk to me.-

But first bow."

"King of Vodun?" Grand Bois laughed. "Your not even king of Canis."

Ijele says "Thirty days on that throne —

Vodunese law says the crown is his."

Grand Bois responds "I cut your tonge then skin your face with the law."

I slammed my fist. My guards drew steel.

His eyes went black. His skin went midnight.

A sword from nothing. White liquid on the tip.

Damballa threw himself between us — "Koca chi! we came to talk not fight"

Grand Bois whispered a warning, "You’ve misread the signs,

The Bondye didn't fall; he shift between lines."

I told him, "This throne na for me.

Not Vodun, not the Loas — Niri is free."

Three hundred Niri. One throne. We hold the line.

They said the Thunder falls — the Thunder doing fine.

From dust we built this crown. From dust we hold it still.

Three hundred Niri. One throne. One unbreakable will.

"Retirez-vous from the Mysters," Grand Bois commands.

But I will stay here as long as the Vodunese stayed on our lands

He hisses, "Kirina is falling! The demons are here

The gates won’t hold. The demons are near.

Your pride split the shield, left the whole kingdom bare—”

I laugh at the ruse. I don’t frighten or scare.

Before I stand with Vodun forces — before I fight your war —

I'd rather bed your horses - I'll do that before.

He spits, “Keep your soldiers. I don’t need your hand.

Stand out of the way. Vodun will take the stand.

Soon You’ll beg for when Vodun steered your fate,

When the enemy you hate would shield your gate

Three hundred Niri. One throne. We hold the line.

They said the Thunder falls — the Thunder doing fine.

From dust we built this crown. From dust we hold it still.

Three hundred Niri. One throne. One unbreakable will.

Then the air grew heavy... thick and cold.

A story older than old...

Torches flickered sideways in a wind that sang a song.

From the ether they coalesced, from the shadows they were born,

Two dozen shapes took solid form and the sky began to mourn.

A figure at the center—obsidian blade,

A sword of black fire burning in the darkness that he made.

His herald spoke the words that turned the courtyard into ice

"This is Lucifer Morningstar — King of Hell.

Bow down or pay the price."

I looked at him. He looked at me.

Two kings. One throne. One courtyard.

I no win this throne just to give am to you.

I... no... go... bow.

Not to Vodun. Not... to... him.

I... no... go... bow.

Not to Vodun. Not... to... him.

I... no... go... bow.

Not to Vodun. Not... to... him.

I... no... go... bow.

Not to Vodun. Not... to... him.

Ke Kwenu! Ke Kwenu!

Niri warriors Kwenu!

Ke Kwenu! Ke Kwenu!

Niri warriors Kwenu!

Ke Kwenu! Ke Kwenu!

Niri warriors Kwenu!

Three hundred Niri. One throne. We hold the line.

They said the Thunder falls — the Thunder doing fine.

From dust we built this crown. From dust we hold it still.

Three hundred Niri. One throne. One unbreakable will.

Ke Kwenu.