Oink Oink

He sits upon a rusted throne
tarnished circlet upon his brow
sycophants whispering
filling his mind
with images of greatness
of cities trembling at his feet.
Fed a steady diet of sins:
Gluttony.
Pride.
Wrath.
Sloth.
Lust.
Envy.
Greed.
No one dared to call him to task.
No one made him face reality.
Bloated he became
feeding upon the fear
the hatred
the despair
the injustice perpetrated.
People turned away
not wanting to catch his eye
as it could mean games in the pit
or death at his feet
dependent upon the hour of the day.
He pranced along
seeing streets of gold
not the pocked ruins of stone
delighted that all were scared of him
glorying in his power
until that fateful day
when a child saw through him.
‘Mama who is that ugly little man? 
Why does he caper?
Is he a joker?
A clown?
Who is he mama?
And why is he so mean?’
Mama burned a brilliant red
shushing her darling dear
but too late
he had heard
his head turning to see
the small voice that caught his ear.
Beckoning with crooked fingers
he called the child forth
making her stand upon the dias
waiting for the tears to start.
The whimpers
the pleas
the begging for more.
More time.
More life.
More everything.
She stood looking at him
head cocked to the left
than to the right
and finally straight on
as she met his eyes.
‘You are nothing but a bully boy.
A disgrace.
A man without meat.
You know not love
you know not faith
you really are a shoat’
And with those fateful words
that little man shrank
and in his place
stood a tidy pig
with a bewildered look upon its face.
©Jay-lyn Doerksen
June 16/18
Photo by Austin Guhl on Unsplash
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