The nature of dispossession
Her skin was golden earth, her eyes the hazy fields of wind swept summer grains
Vibrant laughter and gentle hands
She entirely was renewal
She - the embodiment of spring
And yet, she bore a sharpness well becoming of her station
Her whims a dagger’s edge
Felling kingdoms to till the lands
The farmer's birthing
She admitted once the foreigness of her title
Goddess of beginnings
She scanned the horizon from the palace terrace
And flicked her finger against the distant silhouetted towers
What is birth when death is in lack she said
atop the echoed crush of borders remade