poemling three

When you became Elizabeth,
And walked along the borders of the world,
We all would genuflect and bow
And say a prayer as you passed by.

And all your tragic triumphs we would
Whisper tales around our nightly fires.
You alone, Eliza, fought the giants,
You broke the backs of tyrants,
Clawed the Cyclops eye,
Drowned the hateful witches
In the sea.

The grimness of your everlasting violence.
Your everlasting violence.

When you returned we had no way to thank you. You towered high above us, so high your stately visage was obscured by winter clouds. And we could only love you from a distance, and you could only see us for from above.