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