Therefore our sometime sister, now our Queen, Th’imperial jointress to this warlike state Have we, as twere with a defeated joy With an auspicious and drooping eye With mirth in funeral and with dirge in marriage In equal scale weighing delight and dole Taken to wife.

erainbowd

Picture a piece of wood
Interlocked with another piece of wood.
A joint
Of glue or nail or careful
Interlocking notches.
She is a jointress
An imperial one, no less,
Connecting a martial state.
Is it all hinging on her?
Are the challenges to the borders
Somehow less because she stands there
Connecting state to state
Or king to king.
She is the interlocking piece somehow
A fitted joint
Who must stand connected
Or the state will fall.
Jointress
Bringing together all the opposites
Containing all the dualities
Defeat/joy
Mirth/dirge
Funeral/marriage
Delight/dole
She’s the meeting place.

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