Mary E-A. K. Remaniak Poetry

She wears her robes sparingly,
Shut out from the rest of the world.
Hidden beneath a commoner's garb
Is the crimson and purple cloth
Of royalty...banished from a democracy.
Yet she still hopes one day not to hide
Her true birth and rightful place...
That others may also reveal
Who they are...children of the usurped king.
For now, she must remain silent
And her garments tucked away
Out of sight until the world
Knows no more jealousy and hate
For those different...for those born
With a different blood...with a different way
About them that shows in the draperies
They now hide from sight...
Ashamed of their birthright
Because they are told that it is unacceptable...
Everyone is equal and none deserving of a crown.
Still "hope" is embroidered in scarlet thread
On the hem inside the rough brown cloak.
"Live" sewed next to it in silken white thread.
"Not Perfect" is cast as a reminder
In red upon the waistband of her skirt...
Telling all that no one is truly perfect...
Even she, the deposed royal heiress.
And on her sleeve, "heal" is marked
But not yet finished...this crimson word
Only written as yet upon the brown...
The only word she dares to show the world.

Poet: Mary E-A. K. Remaniak