Walk of Shame
It’s the day of dread
The day your false prophets
and prophetesses never read
to you
Or properly prepared to armor your heart
from the fear spear now piercing thru
It’s the day of dread
that all of the real seers declared
Today you must take your naked pride,
undressed beauty and fame ...
Go descend from your high throne,
and take the long walk
through the streets of the city that bears your name
Marching slowly with your head bowed,
taking that dreaded walk of shame
Your heart fall to its knees hearing the cries
of the people ... some compassionate, others profane
The throng, lining along your sorrowful path,
have been waiting for years to have their say
This is their judgment day
This is the law of the land,
it is the Valerian way!
Your imperial guards dare not intervene,
for the people they fear will violently erupt
and kill you — their beloved hated queen
You must soldier through on your own,
stripped of your dignity
Confessing to all, you cast into the air
every one of your secret transgressions
Looking up, you see all of the sparrows
perched on the church balcony ledge of the Great Septon
And the High Sparrow nods approvingly
for you to faithfully continue on
Looking around, you see none of your staunch supporters
bravely stepping in to intercede
To rescue you from the pain of the moral bleed
Humiliation is a reality you now concede
And the ever increasing strident shouts ring out:
Shame ... shame ... shame!
As they repeat your name,
spitting on your royal person with disdain
Being pelted with rotten things and rancid words,
you mournfully endure your walk of shame
Shame ... shame ... shame!
You never cared to help the homeless, downtrodden poor
Shame ... shame ... shame!
The plight of the lepers, widows and orphans you chose to ignore
Shame ... shame ... shame!
When the famines came, you closed the palace storehouse doors
Shame ... shame ... shame!
Prophetic fear prompted you to order every male baby killed
Shame ... shame ... shame!
Incestuous cravings was how you desired to lustily live
Five fingers of shame balled into a fist,
with which the people pummel you again and again
As a rogue queen, you did whatever you wanted to do
Cleansing your dirty soul
in pure water of faith never appealed to you
Near the end of your bloody walk,
you see the tall palace walls
At the iron gates: you turn to the people, humbled and pleading ...
asking them for mercy
To your amazement, the yeas over shout the nays
Bathed in their forgiveness,
you vow never to willfully return to sin again
Walking through the fortress doors,
head held high, unashamed —
you are a different person now ... a crowned newborn woman
Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2017
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