Sheba

This is a potentially ‘dark’ poem that transforms into something spiritual. I don’t really understand why I wrote it, way back in 1986 or 87 (not sure exactly). But today, I have to admit, it resonates with some of the horrors we see in the news. I’ve written other poems like that. They take a dark turn and I’m wondering why. Then a few years later, they seem to resonate with current events.

Am I a seer?

Not really. But I think time is relative. And some of us can pick up on that.

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Sheba

The princess Sheba raised her head
maintaining her composure
she looked up to the gunman Dread
who was planning her foreclosure

She held it high and met his eye
and saw the barrel black
at this she weakened and had to cry
there was no turning back

The chill set in and turned her soul
her hands rose to her face
trembling twigs on tarnished gold
her composure became disgrace

Skinned alive torn inside out
she had to make a lunge
her body curved like a beam of light
and Dread was standing stunned

Thus this princess earned her crown
on this black and empty day
she knew she would become a Queen
when she met Dread’s brother Grey

And on this day of sun and rain
her yearnings would be still
for all she ever hoped to gain
would be resting in her will

And after that well who can say?
the Queen might ride her horse
around the world ten thousand times
still searching for the source

© 2017 msea. all rights reserved

[ originally written circa 1986-87 ]

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