There was once a little duck
And it wasn’t in his luck
To ever in the future
Turn into a lovely swan-
This ugly bird was fated
To be unappreciated
All his god-forsaken days,
Through night and noon and morn.
His mother tried to love him
But placed the rest above him-
His brothers and his sisters-
Could she help it, do you think?
They were swifter they were stronger,
They would live to help her longer,
They would be a bigger comfort
When her life was on its brink.
Sill, a mother…
Oh don’t bother.
The other relatives were worse
One might suppose they would rehearse
Abuses choices and novel
To hurl at his helpless failing.
For his very sight would fuel
Them into a state so cruel,
It would shock him into silence
Though his heart was full of wailing.
He thought that he deserved it,
No one told him otherwise.
But it didn’t stop him hating,
No, it didn’t stop him hating
Those preaching, preening, prating,
Those gross, infuriating,
Malicious motherfuckers.
Does this come as a surprise?
Time crept by with not much new
But all along the duckling grew;
And in his soul he sensed emotions
He had never known.
Now and then, a random day
He would decide to slip away
And swim to some deserted creek
Where he’d be left alone.
There he could pass his hours
Among the reeds and rocks and flowers
Thinking to himself,
Making music in his head.
The sound of silence cooled him
Only sky and water ruled him
He felt strangely liberated
From misery or dread.
The bit we’re now approaching
Is one I shrink from broaching.
But let us carry on
Since we thought it right to start.
Let us travel to the morning
When our young one went a-journeying
Further than he’d ever gone.
Driven by a pounding heart.
From the minute he’d awoken,
He heard messages unspoken
That stirred him to his depth
And gave fire to his feet.
He swam in the expectation
Of a glorious revelation.
With assurance he dismissed the scope
Of caution or retreat.
When suddenly he stopped
At a vision heaven-droppped,
Glistening in the morning light.
Luminously white!
Skimming water, feather-light.
Skimming water, not a noise,
Breathing purity and poise.
One spread its wings out wide-
A moment regal, and immense,
Yet full of primal innocence.
And our hero softly sighed
For its enveloping embrace
In which he’d sink without a trace
To a blissful death, he thought.
Then half-ecstatic, half-distraught,
(One at his find, one for his past)
He ventured forward at last
And swam into the flock,
Uttering gentle cries of love.
No holy message from above
Could have prepared him for the shock
That would soon turn him to rock.
At first the swans stood deathly still;
Their silence now much darker.
A gloom was cast on everything
The very land looked starker.
Their heads rose up in outrage,
Feathers furiously bristled.
Their lovely eyes grew hard with spite
Like marble cold and chiselled.
Their bodies shuddered violently
In horror and disgust.
They flapped their wings
They squawked in hate,
They were the demons of his fate,
With voices harsh and hoarse and coarse
They battered down his trust.
They struck him with their wings and beaks
And crushed his hope in dust.
All at once the rejected visitor
Felt the weight of his ugliness
And saw the poetry of life floating by, a mangled corpse.
It was not one quick blow
Whose wound would heal with time;
No, his ugliness had gripped him hard
Like a vice.
He felt its weight upon his wings, his neck, his head, his tail.
It made his feet slow and heavy
As he dragged himself along.
It welled up near his throat
In a tight concentrated ball
That choked him.
Readers, it was my aim to describe
This lost soul’s misery at great length,
Because no compassion on your part
Could match the pain he lived.
But I confess I do not have
The courage to do it,
Or the strength to bear it.
Therefore in brief-
The duck lived for five days longer.
Starvation is a slow process
And he proved surprisingly strong.
But with his will to live quite gone,
He found he could stay away
From food with ease.
So he died without much difficulty.
And without the least bit of fuss.
