Once upon a time, I learned to serve
the High King (and His minions) on the throne,
for I was lowly and did not deserve
to live, He said. My life was not my own.
I tried to serve the King with every breath
and never question. Loyal, low, I stayed.
I served Him until living felt like death,
for which, down on my knees, I wished and prayed.
I saw no other way out—till, bereft,
I slipped outside the castle walls and left.
Astonishment: out here was life and joy,
and all along, the High King was a ploy,
and I was the true queen of my domain.
Now, with kindness, truth, and growth, I reign.
In the notebook
