The passing of a crown

The following reflection was quickly written and recorded today for United Christian Broadcasters Radio for a production on Monday for the day of the Queen’s funeral


Upon her last, passing breath
she passes the crown to another,
like a baton
but it’s a burden too,
like a gold-plated cross
and, hiding beneath, the rough wood
which dares to splinter.
Honour and riches and fame and renown
can never hide us from the dangers and strife.
There is no such thing as a comfortable life,
and sacrifice is sewn into her handmade garments
and sequined robes of gold.
And yet she seemed to sail so effortlessly
along an uncomfortable journey
comforted by the One with whom she was anointed
beneath that canopy
which hid her from the public eye,
seven decades ago.
An intimate moment spent with God
whose breath and gentle whisper
is almost imperceptible
but always there,
like the feint scent of sesame seed and olive oil,
roses, orange flowers, jasmine
musk and civet.
She was anointed for service
determined only by her heritage
and how wide her heart was open to the passing of a crown.

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