A King’s Reward

You took something
once intended as mine
and gave it away to another
as a demonstration
of your contempt,
bestowing mercurial favor
on one whose ignorance
indulges your delicate ego.

I cried for a week
over that thing, now lost
forever; a remnant of the love
that brought me here
before you ever reigned.

You roundly punished me
by denial and deprivation
and it is understandable—
not because I deserved it,
but because I answer
to a different king.

My king can take
your spite and transmute it
into tender comfort.

My king can take
your arrogance and level it
to make a path for me to walk upon.

My king can take
your nepotism and multiply it
for the generous favor of all,
in a sweep broader than
your scepter will ever reach.

My king can take
your disdain and drench
tomorrow’s skies
with inconceivable grace,
and with his mighty finger,
gently lift each downcast face
to witness, to receive.

My king can take
your abuse and forge it
into adornments that only
a king’s daughter
is fit to wear.

My king has already
claimed me as his own,
which is why I cannot
be purchased, no matter
how you burn with
impotent revenge.

My king will one day
bend your knee with love
and none of this will matter,
and we will weep together
in reverent awe.

Claire Juno, © 2019