By Enaya Bokhari

A monarch surrenders her hope at the edge of a pond,

Almost nothing would aid against her loss,

Not her own magic nor the flick of a wand. 

Each ripple within the blue elixir released magic in the cool air,

The monarch sobs into emerald blades below, 

Pouring out haunting visions of warfare. 

Surrendering victory and the honor of her crown,

The exhausted masses behind the monarch began to match her frown.

They had lost all in a beastly charade against destruction,

Now, they seek refuge and a little bit of magic at this pond without obstruction.

The monarch and her battered subjects:

Willing to release every ounce of revenge,

The emerald blades drink in pain from lost assets,

Until a humming begins to infiltrate the air of Stonehenge. 

They give in to goodness at the edge of this pond,

Seeking repentance for every wrong as the willows sing a weeping song. 

The monarch lifts her head to see glints of her sorrows float above the pond and fall,

Soon their heads lifted up to see the pond had answered their calls after all.

The pond begins to rise and take shape,

Like a soul emerging from a wave,

Each ripple shifting until it creates:

A deity of the purest aqua,

It stands before the homeless kingdom,

The monarch stared blankly at the water spirit.

The soul of the pond bent down to the kingdom’s crown,

“Your kingdom need not your sorrows and frowns, for that is where they will drown.”

The deity washed away the monarch’s tears as the trees sang on,

“Your people need not the magic of this pond for very long.”

The bewildered royal said,

“You leave me with no clear path for my people, 

Our towers are dead as we are left with dread.”

The deity pointed behind the monarch and the subjects who’ve endured hell,

“The fields call your name, my dear, for the lands are arable and the magic is well.”

“How long will it take to rebuild all that fell?”

“All isn’t lost, Only your own people and time will tell.” 

The deity of the aqua pond washed away the fire in their hearts, 

Leaving a pure blank slate where they would create and not destroy,

The rolling hills behind them were theirs to start,

To rebuild their kingdom part by part. 

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