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