At first I was amused.
Mystic visitors, I was told,
Bringing offerings.
At last, I thought,
my fame had spread.
Amusement though
Was short-lived
Rapidly replaced
By rage
At some upstart
Wanting to steal
My throne.
No understanding
Of the pressures
I had endured
To fight my way
Through prejudice
At my half-caste nature
To the precarious crown.
White-hot anger
Seared my very soul
Robbing me of sleep
And the occasional glimpses of peace
I had all-too rarely seen.
I sensed
I would never know rest again.
Something slightly different today…
Poem by Jeannie Kendall, reproduced with permission