What I wish I could have said, in my mind's-eye arena;
Iron-spined and self held proud whether standing or kneeling
Before tormentors who sought to make me meaner,
Seeking to duplicate their smallness by cruel dealings:
"These indignities reflect not on me, unyielding,
Though you be despots, my humanity is not imperiled,
Not by such power as you inept usurpers are wielding.
Noble beyond debasing, I, and in battle feral;
Grim child of light unquenchable and the day eternal.
Your mouths will stutter on their curses, e'en right arm diminish,
Until your tyrannies fail under the sortie of the rebel
Your names fading and forsaken until utterly extinguished
Selfsame as by the dawn each black night is vanquished
In that manner will I wake, a sword drawn, a red morn
Carrion-fowl flocks following, and no more will languish!"