Poetry: The King

By Monica C. Voskamp

(Inspired by the parable my mom told me of a good king)


The King looks down and sees

Not the reality of commoners

Fighting, shouting and ever

Judging their fellow man.


The King looks down and sees

A different reality:

The suffering in their hearts,

Their longing to be



The King’s eyes probe past

The drunken staggering,

The stench of whiskey

And reads a soul drowning in pain.


The king sees past a homeless person

Defeated and ashamed

He read their panicking minds

Wondering how they will get through

Another day.


The king sees the loner,

Carrying a mountain

All by himself,

Sinking deeper each day

In depression and hopelessness.


The King sees the prostitute

Reads her screaming heart

Hoping one day someone

Won’t judge her,

Someone will finally love her,

Just because

Not for pleasure.


The King doesn’t see

With commoner eyes,

And this,

This is why He is King.


His soul enters into the hearts

And minds of his people.

He hears beyond the screams

And reckless behaviour.


The King sees a suffering race

One He is responsible

To both lead and serve

One He has decided

To give a second chance

Because He loves them.


The King doesn’t forget

They are hurting people

Needing hope,

Needing love,

Needing to be assured

They as commoners,



The King is wise

He doesn’t say off with their heads

At their crazy behaviour,

Nor does he look the other way,

When wrong has been done.

The King is patient

Yet doesn’t tolerate disgrace.


He lives what he gives,

He sees with greater eyes,

He see the people as people.

And in doing so,

He builds a nation

Strong in hope

Firm in trust

Secured in love.


The King looks from above,

While entering prisons inside.

And this is why the King,

Can be trusted to lead

Trusted to win

All the battles they face,

Especially the ones

Buried deep down



Always hope. Always believe. Always love. ❤

*Photo Credit: Photo by Ricardo Cruz on Unsplash