(inspired by the oil painting ‘Repose’ by Dominic Avant)
Let her go if she wants.
The sun, the shadows are her continent.
Unbroken skin and black as uncut jade,
she waits, but will not beg
for what was hers once and will again
be hers alone. You must not bind those hands,
fine-boned, unbloodied, and so regal.
Nefertiti called her out and yet
she did not bend, only let the moon drift on
without her. Unspoken dreams and
time like the lost pharaohs
braid up the fairest and bury them deep.
You cannot cure that destruction, only
raise the cry, sound the horn,
order your cities to bow down and
she will again
be queen.
