The Birth of a Queen

These days she has a solid sense of her own significance.

When people ask how she is doing, she replies, “Strong.”

She announces it in the tone of a queen, escorted with a satisfied smile.

She is a new kind of Queen.  Not the kind to execute her subjects, as they serve as reminders of all she is not.

She is no longer bound by the vines of materialistic pleasures, she is not measured by how many things she has purchased.  She rebuffs the shitty labels society reaches out and tries to slap across her chest like a name tag at a trade show.

Little by little she sought her truth and little by little pieces of it appeared.  Some had welcoming faces that she embraced fully, while there were others that were harder to look at…harder to accept.

But change could not happen before acceptance of herself entirely – demons and all.

She was surprised at how the life of royalty would be so ….

simple..

yet significant.

 

**photo credit: pinterest

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Happy World Poetry Day

Here is a little-known poem by my favorite author, F. Scott Fitzgerald.

ON A PLAY TWICE SEEN

ERE in the figured dark I watch once more;

There with the curtain rolls a year away,

A year of years — There was an idle day

Of ours, when happy endings didn’t bore

Our unfermented souls, and rocks held ore:

Your little face beside me, wide-eyed, gay,

Smiled its own repertoire, while the poor play

Reached me as a faint ripple reaches shore. Yawning and wondering an evening through

I watch alone — and chatterings of course

Spoil the one scene which somehow did have charms;You wept a bit, and I grew sad for you

Right there, where Mr. X defends divorce

And What’s-Her-Name falls fainting in his arms.