Royalty

Queens 

Recently I've been reflecting about how the internet and social media have changed the way we communicate, interact, and share stories. 

And sometimes, I mentally process in poems. I'm not sure why, it's just the way my brain works. 

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The Queen of Spain reached through

Her wretched smiling pictures

To grab me, and pull me

Through her misery.

Why is it her right to play

On my sympathies?

Why is it my duty to cure

Her sickness and disease.

And yet, I cannot look away.

Her hands, swollen with

A painful history

Remind me of my own

Fair collection of bones, necessary

To tell my story.

A part of her. A part of me.

Queen Kinley stares at me

Through wide eyes. She asks

To be heard. To be seen.

I mock her need for affirmation

And her constant visibility.

But yet, little broken one,

I hear your need, and it echoes

My own. My own need

For someone to listen.

Someone to say you matter.

You belong.

To me.

The Queens of the Internet Age

Do not hide their feelings or needs

Like the Virgin Queen.

They open their books, for

Admires, and mockers to read

And to write upon their pages.

I like to think

That like the Faerie Queene

Full of delight and mystery,

That I have the heart of a King.

While my hands do tell a story

And my eyes do ask you to listen

It is my words that will call you

To action.

The words that can set ships to sail

And a thousand to flight.

Wars won first with the pen

Followed by might.

I long for words that move mountains

Calm storms and heal diseases.

I long for the words that create light

Even in my dark recesses.

Oh, That my tongue would be a rudder

Of wisdom, guiding my words.

That my stories would be worth telling

With my pen as the only sword.

I am not Queen Bee

Armed with a warning hum

Burrowing under your skin

Pulsing with its drum.

But I am here.

And I will advocate my throne of pretention.

My hands will help you and

My eyes will see

Your passionate conviction.

I am not a queen that can give a crown

But I will give you my words

And I will tell your story

As my skill will allow.

I am not armed with a bow,

Camera or drum

But I will use what I know.

My pen is a weapon

Fighting ignorance with stories.

Come. Let us tell of our triumphs and failures

Our passion will be our glory.

We are not royal monarchs

Draped in fine robes

No. We will be like the emperor

Showing weakness in our invisible clothes.

For it is our weaknesses

That bind us.

Pride is a solo journey-

Long and grueling.

So let us tell our stories and be Queens

And Kings of our own castles and ruling.

Sit down dear traveler.

Put your luggage full of insecurities to rest.

And tell me your story. 

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Hope you enjoyed the peek into my processing. What do you think about the way the Internet has changed communication? Is it a good thing? A bad thing? What will it look like 10 years from now? 

Let us know in the comments below! We'd love to hear your thoughts.

xo, The Attic

ps. The picture is from Claire Pettibone's Tumblr. I do not own the rights to it. It's lovely though, isn't it?