She yearns for rugged mountains to break
through the ground,
She yearns for green vegetation, life sprouting from the earth,
She yearns for her Median home
Amytis, wife of the King of Babylon, sits alone.
Flat, dry, isolated.

Distantly, the King watches, desperate
to comfort her.
An idea hints at his brain – bring Media
to Babylon.
Musing, daring, determined.

Men hired, methods created, each step
testing the limits,
Stone slabs trekked hundreds of miles
for the creation’s base,
Mud bricks raise the earth to the sky,
nearing the heavens,
A chain pump runs from the Euphrates,
bringing rainfall to the desert.
Exhausting, strenuous, unprecedented.

Finally it is done, what Amytis has waited
years to lay eyes on.
The blindfold is untied, slowly, by the rough, calloused hands of her King.
Excited, hesitant, hyper-aware.

Green leaves, moist soil, and aromatic flowers adorn each terrace,
A lush mountain sprouts from the dry earth,
Media – home – brought to her new life
in Babylon.
She grasps the King’s hand, whispers
I love you in his ear.
Jubilant, gracious, happy.