Barbaric Worship

My first, of noble status, thousands fall to your might—in Eastern lands you're found. Under your mighty power, your weak victims bow down, your greatness brings them to their knees. My second, young and unwritten, was beheaded by a tyrant’s harsh command; she left behind her home and friends, her children left bereaved, but died a martyr in a worthy cause. In far Afghanistan, in China and Japan, on Greenland's ice and India's coral shores, my whole is worshiped by fierce hordes, steeped in tradition.