she sits on her wooden throne,
her name stuck in her throat like Adam’s apple.
she’s been here long enough to midwife the birth of the sun
and is wise enough to know that its dying.
she waits to mourn it,
has been since the day it was born.
She’s not afraid of the darkness
Not when the moon plays at her feet
And hosts stars in her eyelashes
Its just that she’ll forget how to dream about leaving.
Though her kingdom begins and ends with an open road,
Its the dead-end in her mind that keeps her here.
With the moon at her feet
And stars in her eyes,
When they say the sky is the limit,
It she of whom they speak.
But she has forgotten.
Arms chained to her sides
The key lies in her right hand
And the will to be free in the other-
If she would but put her hands together and pray.
She could be free…