A Queen’s Gratitude

If I rise up as many times, and always once more,

Than I fall under life’s dizzying battles;


If I am able to smile in parallel measure,

In the sun, wind or thunderous rain;


If I can temper my folly with quiet wisdom,

And likewise, my old spirit with zest for life’s engagement;


If I can recognise love in its ugliest of disguises,

And find the beauty in all imperfection;


If I can see my place in the cosmos as the speck that it is,

And yet be emboldened to action,

Knowing this speck may define generations;


If I am unrepentant in my refusal,

To define my worth by earthly denominators;


If I am content in my tarnished, weathered skin,

As much amongst princes as with paupers;


If I feel entirely like the queen that I am,

Graced with a crown of a carat that blinds the darkest hour,

With its unending light of hope, love and dignity;


Then… I have only you to blame, Father,

And you to thank, eternally.