The Dying Cú Chullainn Nathan Tompkins
The bronze is pounded, moulded, cast into a dying figure lashed to a lone standing stone, erect on his gore stained feet to resist Mebh’s bitter throng. His shield has fallen to the earth, the edge digs a shallow trench in the rock boned mud. His sword is still grasped as his final breaths gasp through weakened lungs, as his battle crazed strength ebbs with the blood tide. He is bent over the rope tied about his waist. His shoulder is pierced by the hungry talons of the Morrígan’s crow. Her caws echo across the chariot churned field to gleefully mock his hanged corpse. as she thrusts her wings to the sky, waits for him to die.
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