Refugee

Loose hands fall by her sides.
She stands, expecting nothing,
except more of this world's pain
to fall on her narrowed shoulders.

Defeated by the weight of a life
of enduring, unending,
lacking in all the promises
that princesses always disdain.

She has a world only to survive,
only to live through, to endure,
while we walk in through spring green
and hear only promise in the birdsong.