Princess

of a darker people

than I.

Sara,

woeful Wednesday’s child,

slighted by God

are your ears

and eyes –

glittering, useless

black diamonds.

But you stand

alone,

conquering your defects,

knowing that same

careless God

visited your throat

with the voice of angels

and violins

and songbirds,

and more.

You stand alone,

cleft chin

raised proud.

You open your mouth

and fill

the sky.