Koko and the Beast.

Koko and the Beast.

This week, two stories.

One beautiful, sad, heart-rending.

The other?

Make up your own mind.

In one story an inflated emptiness

struts and preens in hollow vanity, 

boasting of wealth and power

as his mirror audience

claps and cheers and chants 

whilst the world fills with tears

from children of the poor,

hiding under space blankets,

their crying for their mothers

rising high above the clamour,

the lies and self-justifications,

the heartless mis-use of law and Bible,

the faux “I’m a mother and a catholic” outrage.

In the other story Koko, 

the western lowland gorilla,

dies peacefully,

aged forty six.

Intelligent Koko,

who could sign 1000 words

and understand 2000.

Gentle Koko,

who, tired and near the end,

signed to her friend

“I’m getting old”.

Loving Koko,

who, though childless,

raised two kittens

and thought of them as hers.

Mourned Koko,

missed by Ndume,

who, arranging blankets around her body,

signed  “I know” and “Cry”.

Koko,

let me also mourn for you.

Let me praise you too.

Strange consolation

to know of life such as yours,

intelligent, simple and pure,

utterly without vanity,

a light in the darkness

of all the coiffed, self-serving horror

now strutting the stage of the world

and beating at the hollow chest

of its own vast emptiness. 

First published at New Verse News.