Queen Calla
#2 of Poetry
A poem inspired by my mother, a woman who has given me strength, courage, and laughter as well as life. Words can't express love sometimes... but I do the best I can.
Queen Calla
Torn at since birth,
hands petting and pulling her cruelly,
smothering with muck and mire.
Even crowned she is spurned,
plucked, pruned, and paraded.
A prize on pedestal, berthed.
Yet she stands,
Flowering even in dearth.
Her roots hold part of her the whole of the earth.
Splendor blessed, balm;
Majesty bit, bane.
Her name monument of magnificence, beauty.
Hurled into the hurricane, She dances.