Here are the things I was given as Queen:
A chamber filled with the scent of roses, a bath drawn daily with warm jasmine petals–
a servant who massaged my jaw and my temples, another who rubbed meÂ
with perfumes and lotions.
Plates of figs and oranges and pastries with honey, as many lamb shanks as I could devour–
a jester who came just to amuse me, a hitman I could call to threaten my enemies.
Here are the things I desired as Queen:
A scribe who might teach me reading and writing, time away from the palace to visit my sisters.
A day with no one there to watch me, a path to escape to the sea or the mountains
Here are the ways that I endured him as Queen:
I arrived late whenever he called for me, I answered his questions only in riddles.
I drank the remedy that stopped me from conceiving.
I drank the liquor that stopped me from feeling.
Here is how I faced my death as Queen:
I came to the day when there was no way to bear him.Â
when there was simply no dance I was willing to give him
when the darkness of Duzakh seemed much more appealing
when I imagined my story might make me immortal.
Here is what I ask you now, as a friend:
Remember, in your gladness, my part of the story.
I was not born to be the hero.
I was only a woman who dreamed of power
and who tasted it once, before I vanished.
