The son of the Most High God
sits upon an elusive throne;
his reign resembles more joke than substance.
The house of Jacob appears to have forgotten him;
if they ever recognised his reign
in the first place.
There are any number of seats of power
upon which he might have been installed
by his eager acolytes:
Washington, Rome, Beijing, Brussels,
Canberra; (sorry, I couldn’t help myself!)
– but he seemed uninterested.
It would have proven a futile effort anyway;
he failed to sell himself, didn’t seem
to grasp the basic requirements
of the job. If you expect to rule
then you need the right power-base,
and the best he could do
was point to an incongruous crew,
the members of which didn’t seem
to have made any real advances
with the passing of two millennia.
He spoke in riddles about his ancestor, David,
and a throne that would endure.
When we pressed for some details
he gave an idiot grin
and muttered something about the weak,
forgotten and desperate ones;
those who sail in fragile wooden boats,
who camp sadly behind barbed wire,
who dwell in shabby boarding houses,
or caravan parks, and who occupy
public squares and plazas.
As if these counted for anything
when it comes to the serious matter
of might and thrones and power;
and kingdoms that are said to have no end.
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