Twenty pushes in nine hours.
The smell of blood and sweat chocking the nurses.
And she gave birth to a still born.

Smell of ashes after the lightning bolt struck our hut.
Screams engulfed us and the air smelled and tasted like rot.
Our community struggled to accept the death of a Queen.

The wind was whistling when she fell from the pine tree.
The sounds of painful screeching swallowed us whole.
We thought she’d live but the broken spine didn’t let her live.