Lucky
With domineering hand she moves the turning wheel,
Like currents in a treacherous bay swept to and fro:
Her ruthless will has just deposed once fearful kings
While trustless still, from low she lifts a conquered head;
No cries of misery she hears, no tears she heeds,
But steely hearted laughs at groans her deeds have wrung.
Such is a game she plays, and so she tests her strength;
Of mighty power she makes parade when one short hour
Sees happiness from utter desolation grow.
Margaret Undersee had always been told she was lucky. That she never had anything to worry about. That she had everything she could ever want. That her life was perfect.
She was lucky.
But as the fire threatened to overcome her, she knew she was going to die. It was all over. Debris and ash fell everywhere. She could smell only what she assumed to be the putrid odor of burning flesh as District 12 burned to the ground around her.
Her luck had run out a long time ago. She knew exactly when—the exact date and time she had stopped being so damn luck. Her luck had run out on the day that she had serendipitously placed that golden pin on Katniss Everdeen's dress over a year ago. She hadn't in her wildest dreams envisioned the path that a small action like that would propel her on. It had led her to her death.
But she couldn't imagine choosing anything different. Sure, her path had led her to this destruction. But it had also led her to Gale. That was enough for her.
So as she lay dying, she could only thank God for what she had set into motion.
