I was there at your coronation.
Smile gleaming as your adoring public awaited
that crisp glimmer of hope was not your thank you to them, it was to Him
your first love.
They marveled at you
your bleeding soul filled so many internal chalices.
We felt whole.
So we made you our queen.
Adorned your locs with sheet metal painted gold.
We offered it to you.
We requested you at all of our events… it was the least you could do.
I mean, the least that could be done
and then the banners came down.
You were still our peace of piety
But in this new season we elected others.
You came back to visit the next year.
We caught up.
We missed you.
Yet you were slightly different now.
Years down the line you graced us with your time and we asked you where you’d been.
You pointed to your kids.
Then years flew by and we got angry you didn’t slide through
mad you left us and the new queens weren’t like you.
We slaughtered your name
tarnished the reign you gave us
you, just wanted to return your smile to the one who gave it to you.
This year, I’m going to be a true f(r)an(d)
and just wish you well,
Ms. Hill, this too is your homecoming.
Thank you for the reign.