Words by
Art by Olivia Tait
In memoriam of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II
(21/4/1926 – 8/9/2022)
The bells sound a century’s close
scattering Westminster ravens
dressing London landscapes
in a widow’s veil
Black lace and tie, empire’s
trumpets shake off the centuries
of dust, ringing once more
around the chapel of nations
The Queen is dead.
Long live the King
Forty-two guns, ninety-six cannons
fall on death’s deaf ear
Even she, heart swollen
with celestial fire and all
pageantry, pomp and power
yields to the democracy of death
Let her live with England’s Queens
whose likeness kings and men
will never match; grace, dignity
and humour; we shall never see
their like again
Her duty braced on marble shoulders
her feet set in empire’s soil
on stolen stone
on black and brown bodies
The deep set roots of palace roses
like empire’s chain of graves
encircles the Earth
Those red petals redder still
for toil of custodians who cultivate
country which British boots stole
the Endeavour’s bow
breaking
the beaches of Botany Bay
beginning dispossession
which continues today
Homeless in a homeland;
colonisation is not a moment
but a method; its heirs squat
their ears blocked
to the steady solemn sound
of Country’s Voice
Unite in celebration
or mourning
God rest the Monarchy
The Elizabethan age is ended
The Queen is dead.
We shall never see
her like again
sic transit gloria mundi
