FROM GRASS TO GRACE
As a bouncing baby lass
I came on one chilly dawn
The fading moon smiling at me
Giving credence to blessings and prosperity
But the inevitable creature
Took away the prime parts of me
When the main parts die
The sub-parts fall off, wilt and crush
What a callous world
The world that sent my roots to decay
The world that pierced my heart
…………and cast me adrift
…………from bliss, gaiety
………..to pensive melancholy
And now this is me
A rag under the feet
……of the highest throne
Bowing to sons and daughters of royals
Rushing responses to harsh commands
Days were quick
……and nights even shorter
By subornation and incursion
Blood of son of royals
Enters blood of daughter of slaves
PARAMOUR: that’s what I am to the Prince
And now the barrel is full of water
Water that golden fish swim-wander
Fish with blood of royals and slaves
Blood of different vessels
O how I hate myself
…..that this rusted leaking barrel
Holds water to the fullest?
Isn’t this an abomination?
Hmmm…. but custom demands its place
And the sower has accepted the harvest
The river into which the hook is thrown
From same river the hook traps a fish
As earth paces round the sun
The queen’s regalia embrace me up
And her crown kisses my head
And beside the highest throne I sit
What is this?
Wasn’t I supposed to bow?
Why then am I bowed?
Dream, should I call it?
Grace, should I guess?
Divine intervention, should I say?
This, I call it ‘FROM GRASS TO GRACE’!