Dedicated to the African queen, Precious Dombo Kurebwaseka

The bleak silence of the classroom walls,
Feels to me like agony.
But the queen, upon her throne sits,
Quite well and peacefully;
She knows not sorrow, hate or pain,
Just love for all things true.
The gift she says: is to be loved,
Not how much it would cost you.

And with this said, she rides once more,
On the everlasting wings,
Free- from all the ties below,
Amongst non-celestial beings.

The truth, she says, is a powerful thing,
Enough to make hearts cold;
If the sands go on and do their course,
And the winds subside and lose their force,
The truth will remain a powerful thing,
For times to come and times of old.

Believe not what the strangers say,
The truth they speak, yet can’t convey.
All those truths will have their time,
Like water flowing, flowing fine.

These simple tales of myth untold,
By the queen of sands,
Upon her own;
Singing and swaying to the sounds of the wind,
Carrying her spirit to all of her kin.

The voices of her empire echo,
Within each step of her blood red stilettoes,
As she gracefully treads,
And unlawfully weds,
All the sins of others.