Queen Calla
Torn at since birth,
hands petting and pulling her cruelly,
smothering with muck and mire.
Even crowned she is spurned,
plucked, pruned, and paraded.
A prize on pedestal, berthed.
Yet she stands,
Flowering even in dearth.
Her roots hold part of her the whole of the earth.
Splendor blessed, balm;
Majesty bit, bane.
Her name monument of magnificence, beauty.
Hurled into the hurricane, She dances.
Flowering even in dearth.
Her roots hold part of her the whole of the earth.
Splendor blessed, balm;
Majesty bit, bane.
Her name monument of magnificence, beauty.
Hurled into the hurricane, She dances.
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