“Mom, we had to write an elegy poem for class today,” says the girl. “Wanna read it?”
“Sure!” I say. “I’d love to.” [After reading] “OMG, this is awesome! You made my day!”
Girl grins. “I thought you’d like it.”
Hath the queen in her glory maintained the waking day?
Hath her children in their pity turned their heads away?Hath the queen in her carpet huddled in decay?
Doth the queen, oh the queen, breathe today?
Doth the people in their pain, know the wretched score?
Hath they seen their queen belittled, branded a wretched whore?
Hath they heard the evil king scoff at the wretched poor?
Doth people in their pain, know their old queen is no more?
Now the queen, in her tomb lies with cold triumph in her heart
Now the queen knew she must the end the final part
Now the sand that covers the sacred land swirls like a piece of art
Now the sand of the land has been struck by a poisoned dart.
And a deadly snake curls around Egypt’s lifeless wrist
And a small child cries, as a twin clenches her fist
And pyramids are sagging, covered by a Roman mist
The queen, oh the queen, will be missed.