Tristan Robert Lange
Devilishly Dreadful: The Flames of Betrayal
She sat there with shame near the flickering flame,
Bearing betrayal’s name near the flickering flame.
He loved her, she thought—with all of his heart—
Promised to remove her blame in the flickering flame.
She was Black—a free girl—he a northern white;
Her safety was his claim ‘neath the flickering flame.
She believed him and trusted his love for her—
Wed him—became his wife and the flickering flame.
In the forge, she sat there alone in the heat,
Vengeance now her name ‘neath the flickering flame.
She was Black—freeborn—he a white gentleman;
His lies were to blame in the flickering flame.
He loved her, she thought, but she was wrong,
‘Stead, she learned his game ‘neath the flickering flame.
A rich commodity, that Miss Ada was,
He’d sell her in shame sans the flickering flame.
But knowledge is power and she, no slave,
Scorched them both the same in the flickering flame.
Like Tristan and Isolde in horror’s claim,
A Pyre—her forge a frame—the flickering flame.
© 2025 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
First published on tristanrobertlange.com, October 13, 2025.
Tittu