Queen of Elba

You talked of that barren land. Those sights were never sore to your weary eyes. You had seen what most could never dream of. You have walked those paths, paved with once molten now frozen rocks. You climbed to the highest point, the fog covered the hills and valleys. You could only see two colours: black and grey. Mostly it was cold, the sun never warmed these lands. The trees were banished, the hills erupted with burning rocks, life was wrapped in a sulphuric haze of toxic yellow. Everyone escaped in time, before the last standing bush succumbed to such hostility. But it was my home is what you cry to me. These are the words you uncontrollably shout into my ears. Sobbing, vehemently resisting you whimper after much force is exerted on your fragile limbs to calm the ecstasy. But it was my home. My home.
 

These rivers seem powerless to your force. The sky unmoved by your fury. With the words “I command” you start each sentence. Still. There is nobody to hear, the echo of your words amplify, ring fiercely loud, boast as ambassadors to their keeper, chasing unwanted subjects deep under ground. They are just words, empty, hollow, weak words. The powers you once had have been stripped, there is nobody on this island but you. Not another soul. Your heavy eyes are lifted, if there was danger I would seek shelter. Your heavy eyes are lifted and with a roaring thunder you charge. Closer and faster to where you hear your echoes loudest. The cliff stops you, NO, you let out a thundering cry, a shout so resonant that it cracks the boulders unable to move. Then furious you gather your forces, men of armour, mirages in a sweltering cold, patches of clouds cover the exact number of your army. The task is to find and kill, to find and maim, to find and eradicate those who do not obey. On your lead they all follow, hundreds of minions, valiant men of loyalty, subjects to be crushed. The lands shake as the sea of your army pass by. Fear rides alongside, mouth foaming fury sits beside, devilish eyes navigate through rocks, black sands, dried riverbeds.

I have seen your soul. Through those eyes the deep and profound sadness. You are banished, stripped of your men. You are banished, no longer ruler of anyone, of any land. This is what has been done, plotted against you, stabbed in the back, banished for good to this island of barrenness. You still roam but no longer charge. The men have vanished, the cold winds blow through your cloak. Suddenly everything lost colour. The trees died, the blue in the sky turned grey, the green hills were taken over by sand that turned vicious, menacing black. The colour of death, the colour of your demise. Now you rule these waterless lands, these hills which lose rocks, these pastures of quicksand, these shores of murky, dense, blackness. You rule over nobody. The deep, heartbreaking sadness in you has turned everything hard, brittle, unable to melt. In moments of weakness you remember, then in fury you destroy.

Sounds from far away greet me as I step foot on your island. Your hair has grown, your cloak dirty from the endless roaming. The winds have eaten away at you, pale skin that never found the sun. Slowly you come closer. I bow. This boat is for you, for you to leave. Your voice has not lost its power, your eyes burning without me meeting them. You can crown me the queen of Elba. I’m never coming home. Your majesty, this boat is for you. You can leave. The silence gives rise to angst, I look up. You are gone, vanished. Your steps light, your sound inaudible. The winds cover you, the howling winds clear the traces of your salty scent. These lands now hold you, these barren lands have taken your soul. I now understand that you are never coming home.