Poem: "From the Shelter of Compassion and Pity"
This poem came out of the February 4, 2020 Poetry Fishbowl. It was inspired by prompts from ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
torc87 and 
rix_scaedu. It also fills the "Fern - Shelter" square in my 2-1-20 card for the Valentines Bingo fest. This poem has been sponsored by janetmiles. It belongs to the series One God's Story of Mid-Life Crisis.
"From the Shelter of Compassion and Pity"
Shaeth was minding his own business
in the marketplace, shopping for
supplies with his followers, when
the ruckus at the temple gate
attracted his attention.
Someone in cleric robes
was pushing a young woman
out the gate, her crying children
clinging to her worn skirts.
"What the hell is going on
over there?" Shaeth wondered.
"Oh, that's the Temple of the Righteous,"
Trobby said. "It's not really, if you ask me,
but nobody does usually. They claim to follow
all the good gods, but they're not good people,
they're stuffy and mean. Look how they're
treating that poor girl now -- I wander
what she did to piss them off."
"Got born, probably," Prell muttered.
"Bloody hypocrites," Denore added.
"They pretend they're all about
helping the poor, but then they'll
run you off the moment nobody's
looking. It's all just a show."
Shaeth narrowed his eyes.
"You don't say," he growled.
"We used to think it was funny,"
Belfegar said, elbowing Agricole.
"You know, how many righteous men --"
"Well it's not funny now," Shaeth snapped,
and his followers fell silent. Then he sighed.
"Sorry. I shouldn't take it out on you."
Across the street, the children
cried louder as the gate slammed.
Shaeth stalked over to see if
there was anything he could do.
"What is the matter?" he said.
"I-I lost my job," the woman said.
"I was a barmaid, but I couldn't
stop sampling, so I got fired."
"Oh, that's useful," Trobby said.
"We can always use a barmaid!"
"Could you really?" she said,
giving Shaeth a hopeful look.
Then her face fell. "It's no use,
though. I really can't stop."
Shaeth shrugged. "So?
Everybody samples the booze
in my temple. I'm the God of Drunks."
"I suppose that's a good place
for me, then," she said. "I'm Kettra."
"Come on, if you're coming," Shaeth said.
"You can help us finish the shopping."
"What about my children?" Kettra said.
"My neighbor used to watch them
while I worked, but if I move ..."
"We'll think of something,"
Shaeth said, by which he meant
that he'd dump the kids on Glenta
and have her think of something.
Trobby glared at him a bit, then
dropped down on one knee.
"Hi," he said. "I'm a priest of
Shaeth. If you come with us, we'll
give you a warm place to sleep and
plenty of food. I'll show you where
the ferns grow behind the temple. We
could make a nice story circle there."
That reminded Shaeth that most
of his followers had grown up with
drunk parents, so he had better
figure this out sooner than later.
"A very nice story circle, with
someone there to teach you,"
Shaeth said, earning a look
of approval from his priest.
"We're making prayer books,"
Denore said. "We could make
something for the little followers
to learn to read from, too."
"That will do," Shaeth said.
Of course that was when
the gate swung open again,
hard enough to bounce off
the wall beside it, and a priest
came boiling out to scold them.
"What are you still doing here,
you hussy?" the fat man demanded.
Squealing, Kettra hid behind Shaeth,
but the children all panicked.
As if of one mind, his followers
scooped them up and backed
way away, Prell and Denore
sticking close to Trobby.
With the path clear, Shaeth
rounded on the intruding priest.
"Who are you to say that you
serve Good but harass a mother
in front of her children?" Shaeth said.
"I know the taste of your worship!"
"I am Thron, Priest of the Righteous,"
the man blustered, kicking the dog that
tried to follow Kettra. "She is just a drunk."
"And that makes her mine," Shaeth said.
"I don't like people who hurt what is mine."
"Hey, you can't talk to him like that,
he's important," a villager protested.
"If you have men who will exclude
any creatures from the shelter
of compassion and pity, you
will have men who will deal
likewise with their fellow men,"
Shaeth said grimly, picking up
the dog and passing it to Eshne.
Then he turned to those
of his followers who had
known him of old, when
he was the God of Evil, and
he said to them, "Bring down
for me this temple that offends me."
They gave him a look a great joy,
and fell upon the temple in glee,
pulling it apart with the strength
that their god poured into them.
When it was done, Agricole
and Belfegar came to him with
the others trailing behind him, and
put the two traditional rocks into
his hands instead of on an altar.
"My Lord, it is done," Belfegar said.
"We have left not a stone on a stone."
"Well done," Shaeth approved.
"My -- my temple!" Thron said.
"What am I to do now?"
"Go cry to the gods of Good,
if you like," Shaeth said, "but
I don't think they'll hear you."
Belfegar and Agricole laughed
as they dusted each other off,
the power fading into a spray
of pale green sparkles.
It was good to see them
so happy, Shaeth realized.
He looked around and saw
that his other followers had
bought apples to soothe
the frightened children, and
Prell was urging Kettra to look
for skirts at a thrift booth,
so that was well in hand.
Shaeth watched Thron
scrabbling in the gravel
that used to be his temple.
He really hated the kind of
hypocrisy and betrayal that
could only come from people
pretending to be Good who weren't.
He might not be the God of Evil anymore,
but that didn't prevent him from using what
he had learned in service to his drunks.
* * *
Notes:
"If you have men who will exclude any of God's creatures from the shelter of compassion and pity, you will have men who will deal likewise with their fellow men."
-- Francis of Assisi
torc87 and rix_scaedu. It also fills the "Fern - Shelter" square in my 2-1-20 card for the Valentines Bingo fest. This poem has been sponsored by janetmiles. It belongs to the series One God's Story of Mid-Life Crisis."From the Shelter of Compassion and Pity"
Shaeth was minding his own business
in the marketplace, shopping for
supplies with his followers, when
the ruckus at the temple gate
attracted his attention.
Someone in cleric robes
was pushing a young woman
out the gate, her crying children
clinging to her worn skirts.
"What the hell is going on
over there?" Shaeth wondered.
"Oh, that's the Temple of the Righteous,"
Trobby said. "It's not really, if you ask me,
but nobody does usually. They claim to follow
all the good gods, but they're not good people,
they're stuffy and mean. Look how they're
treating that poor girl now -- I wander
what she did to piss them off."
"Got born, probably," Prell muttered.
"Bloody hypocrites," Denore added.
"They pretend they're all about
helping the poor, but then they'll
run you off the moment nobody's
looking. It's all just a show."
Shaeth narrowed his eyes.
"You don't say," he growled.
"We used to think it was funny,"
Belfegar said, elbowing Agricole.
"You know, how many righteous men --"
"Well it's not funny now," Shaeth snapped,
and his followers fell silent. Then he sighed.
"Sorry. I shouldn't take it out on you."
Across the street, the children
cried louder as the gate slammed.
Shaeth stalked over to see if
there was anything he could do.
"What is the matter?" he said.
"I-I lost my job," the woman said.
"I was a barmaid, but I couldn't
stop sampling, so I got fired."
"Oh, that's useful," Trobby said.
"We can always use a barmaid!"
"Could you really?" she said,
giving Shaeth a hopeful look.
Then her face fell. "It's no use,
though. I really can't stop."
Shaeth shrugged. "So?
Everybody samples the booze
in my temple. I'm the God of Drunks."
"I suppose that's a good place
for me, then," she said. "I'm Kettra."
"Come on, if you're coming," Shaeth said.
"You can help us finish the shopping."
"What about my children?" Kettra said.
"My neighbor used to watch them
while I worked, but if I move ..."
"We'll think of something,"
Shaeth said, by which he meant
that he'd dump the kids on Glenta
and have her think of something.
Trobby glared at him a bit, then
dropped down on one knee.
"Hi," he said. "I'm a priest of
Shaeth. If you come with us, we'll
give you a warm place to sleep and
plenty of food. I'll show you where
the ferns grow behind the temple. We
could make a nice story circle there."
That reminded Shaeth that most
of his followers had grown up with
drunk parents, so he had better
figure this out sooner than later.
"A very nice story circle, with
someone there to teach you,"
Shaeth said, earning a look
of approval from his priest.
"We're making prayer books,"
Denore said. "We could make
something for the little followers
to learn to read from, too."
"That will do," Shaeth said.
Of course that was when
the gate swung open again,
hard enough to bounce off
the wall beside it, and a priest
came boiling out to scold them.
"What are you still doing here,
you hussy?" the fat man demanded.
Squealing, Kettra hid behind Shaeth,
but the children all panicked.
As if of one mind, his followers
scooped them up and backed
way away, Prell and Denore
sticking close to Trobby.
With the path clear, Shaeth
rounded on the intruding priest.
"Who are you to say that you
serve Good but harass a mother
in front of her children?" Shaeth said.
"I know the taste of your worship!"
"I am Thron, Priest of the Righteous,"
the man blustered, kicking the dog that
tried to follow Kettra. "She is just a drunk."
"And that makes her mine," Shaeth said.
"I don't like people who hurt what is mine."
"Hey, you can't talk to him like that,
he's important," a villager protested.
"If you have men who will exclude
any creatures from the shelter
of compassion and pity, you
will have men who will deal
likewise with their fellow men,"
Shaeth said grimly, picking up
the dog and passing it to Eshne.
Then he turned to those
of his followers who had
known him of old, when
he was the God of Evil, and
he said to them, "Bring down
for me this temple that offends me."
They gave him a look a great joy,
and fell upon the temple in glee,
pulling it apart with the strength
that their god poured into them.
When it was done, Agricole
and Belfegar came to him with
the others trailing behind him, and
put the two traditional rocks into
his hands instead of on an altar.
"My Lord, it is done," Belfegar said.
"We have left not a stone on a stone."
"Well done," Shaeth approved.
"My -- my temple!" Thron said.
"What am I to do now?"
"Go cry to the gods of Good,
if you like," Shaeth said, "but
I don't think they'll hear you."
Belfegar and Agricole laughed
as they dusted each other off,
the power fading into a spray
of pale green sparkles.
It was good to see them
so happy, Shaeth realized.
He looked around and saw
that his other followers had
bought apples to soothe
the frightened children, and
Prell was urging Kettra to look
for skirts at a thrift booth,
so that was well in hand.
Shaeth watched Thron
scrabbling in the gravel
that used to be his temple.
He really hated the kind of
hypocrisy and betrayal that
could only come from people
pretending to be Good who weren't.
He might not be the God of Evil anymore,
but that didn't prevent him from using what
he had learned in service to his drunks.
* * *
Notes:
"If you have men who will exclude any of God's creatures from the shelter of compassion and pity, you will have men who will deal likewise with their fellow men."
-- Francis of Assisi