Coronation

I built a throne,

in the darkest parts of me,

where the light wouldn't reach.

I wasn't ready to wear the crown,

or own my royalty.

The vines grew over my name,

tangled in my mane,

until I was caged

with shame.

I knew I was worth more,

but I could not remember,

what it felt like to roar.

I was muzzled, muted,

from sheathing my claws

to stay inside their box,

against the paradox;

trying to fit in

while my soul knew I was wild.

It is the act of a child

to deny the lineage we are given.

Purple is the cloth

I was made to live in.

I pruned all the kudzu,

determined to find my throne,

polished the coronet

whispered "we're far from over yet"

until it gleamed.

Now when I glimpse my reflection

I finally see

a Queen