The Medieval Child

The Medieval child, lauded over and acclaimed at the start of the year,

now will show its true colours to the world away

from its long since gone mother’s breast.

The old harridan who succumb to final old age

at the moment of delivery follows her charges fortunes now

as it gears up to become a teenager.

 

The January day is over and Janus rests content for another year

not to have to keep up the pretence of concern or anxiety

of what was before. His young responsibility, now old enough

to shake their own growing manacles, to work out whether to be kind,

compassionate, cruel, malicious, lacking pity on those that

let fireworks off in its honour on the arrival

of its birth and the death of its crow like mother, or just to be benign,

nothing felt across the world as its first decree on turning thirteen

is to order that nothing be changed.

 

It chooses the name ahead of its birthday

and stares into the mirror that Janus left behind

and smashes it to pieces with the end of its rod and staff,

the crown upon its head, takes the first slip sideways and reveals

the pain of growing older, which it vows to inflict upon its billions

of subjects  in early revenge.

 

The young infant January knew no better,

never truly venturing beyond its castle keep

and fortress tall but now sees a glimmer of light

poking through a hole, tiny, insecure as a May Day parade in the hope

of better days to come, but blinding, searing its eyes to the beauty

the world can offer, a vision it might never see again

till the glory of a first daffodil presents itself to the twenty something year old

monarch and urges it to reflect upon is deeds.

 

You are a bitter sovereign in waiting,

being left alone at the moment of your birth

keeps you as cruel as a hunter armed with a stone

but with the possibility that you might be like Tiresias

and gain knowledge from seeing the world from every view

point.

Sleep well our January ruler, for in the morning

you inherit much wealth as the future Emperor with a

God’s will at your side.

 

Ian D. Hall