{"sf1_id":1353428,"sf2_id":"XnrQjWxm","title":"Queen Calla","author":"Mister Moira","words":67,"posted_at":"2018-07-23T00:00:00.000Z","tags":["Flower","Love","Mother","Poetry"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1353428-queen-calla","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/XnrQjWxm","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/5c/79/5c791b65-45be-4770-b65d-4bac8119b2a9","description":"#2 of Poetry\n\nA poem inspired by my mother, a woman who has given me strength, courage, and laughter as well as life. Words can't express love sometimes... but I do the best I can.","content":"Queen Calla\n\n  \nTorn at since birth,  \nhands petting and pulling her cruelly,  \nsmothering with muck and mire.  \nEven crowned she is spurned,  \nplucked, pruned, and paraded.   \nA prize on pedestal, berthed.\n\nYet she stands,  \nFlowering even in dearth.  \nHer roots hold part of her the whole of the earth.  \nSplendor blessed, balm;  \nMajesty bit, bane.   \nHer name monument of magnificence, beauty.  \nHurled into the hurricane, She dances.  \n\n  \n  \n\n","series":{"name":"Poetry","previous":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1352827-a-light-love.json","next":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1353431-we-used-to-be-wild.json"}}