May 8, 2016
Once upon a time a Princess was born,
She was tiny, and new, and afraid.
This was a bright new world she had entered into.
Then a figure leaned over her and brought shade.
It was the Queen.
And she was beautiful.
Strands of whitened blonde hair fell in front of her face.
Pearls beamed out from behind her lips.
Her skin was the tone of a warm hug.
She laughed joyously and brought her gentle hands down to comfort.
Years pass and the Princess is now a small girl.
She cries in her room because she believes, untruthfully,
That none of the other children want to play with her.
She hears a knock at the door, interrupting her sobs.
The Queen opens the door and peers inside.
When she sees the Princess's tears, she runs over.
She cradles her daughter in arms like walls, whispering,
"You are a Princess of mine, do not forget."
More years passed and the Princess has found a boy.
Sometimes she thinks he will be her Prince!
But, alas, the boy uses her for her power, and then leaves her sorrow-stricken.
She collapses in a pile of fabric sobbing as footsteps approach.
The Queen kneels in front and lifts up the Princess's chin.
She smiles and strokes her daughter's hair.
"Once upon a time, I was a Princess too.
I found my Prince, but it was not at first."
Many years later a great tragedy falls upon the kingdom.
Rivers of tears are shed.
Great sorrow suffocates the sky.
Downturned faces are all that one sees.
The Princess seeks her Queen for comfort.
But what she expects to find is a reflection of her sorrow.
She knocks softly on the door to her chambers.
From within she hears a soft cry. She bursts in.
Her now more white than blonde hair lies in disarray.
Her pearls are hidden behind her closed and frowning lips.
Her skin is paler than a blanket of fog.
Her once gentle hands claw at her tear-stained face.
The Princess walks slowly over to her mother and kneels before her.
The Queen takes a deep breath and looks into her daughter's eyes.
The Princess sees loss and sorrow and grief and love and hope and joy,
A microcosm of humanity and human-ness within the Queen's eyes.
The Queen rests a weak and shaking hand on her shoulder.
Her tears stop but their predecessors' paths still glistened.
"True power is knowing when to break."
And then she broke.
And she is beautiful.