Known to be powerful
But a mystery
Full of intrigue
To men
She was covered in silks
And jewelry
She was lavished in treasures
From around the world
But her countenance was not of leisure
Nor pleasure
But of anger and hurt
In her dark gorgeous eyes
You could see the flame
Of anger that boiled and would burn
But it was not as it happens
That she was wrong
Her anger was righteous
Her face was true
Her people had faced defeat
And were sold into slavery
The monarchs of her people
The sole free to leave
And she lingered in that part
Of the world
Trying to find some way
To restore her people
To freedom
But the consequences
Of loss
Had spread them
To every corner
Of the known globe
And her heart ached
To know
She could not make things right
So she made an effort
Where she stood
To redeem her life
By buying and freeing slaves
By building a new sort of order
One less obsessed with wealth
One possessed of hope
That by starting new they might
Find some purpose from the loss
And redeem their lives
By paying the cost
For the next generations
The new nation
Of the dyaspora who would return
To the homeland
That gave them birth
