"Chinese Dragon´s Dilemma" by Paul J. Doyle

CHINESE DRAGON’S DILEMMA

                  by

          Paul J. Doyle

Soaring through the puffy clouds, twisting through the air,

Regulating precipitation is my designated care.

With five-clawed toes and a wingless snaky length

I am regal, Imperial: gifted with Dragon strength.

The atmosphere is my open, continuous lair.

Imperial China is great, vast, monumental:

The Emperor expects me to be sentimental.

“Uphold the divine honor of the dynasty in power!

Exult in its glory; guard it like a precious flower.”

I mustn’t ignore His Highness when he gets temperamental.

Insurrection erupts on a far-flung plateau,

A few rebellious elements disrupting the flow.

Yet these are mortal concerns; I make rain for the crops.

Frankly, I don’t give a damn about ideological props.

The peasant families need nourishing harvests to sow.

The Emperor summons me to the Forbidden City, in Peking.

“You, my friend, ought to be more worried about Chaos in the making.”

I grasp my Pearl of Wisdom in my five-taloned claw.

“I am your symbol, but since when do I enforce your law?”

“Servant of Heaven, ending the rain will be your undertaking.”

Annoyed by the Emperor’s gall but mindful of the Eternal Balance

I soar to the far-flung plateau and relieve a dragon of lesser talents.

The four-clawed brother knows my credentials—he’s astonished.

“Your Excellency, my master, have you been admonished?”

“The Gods will decide, my friend. Even I have to earn my allowance.”

“There’s a Pearl for you to chase up in the clouds above Nanking,”

I encourage him, knowing he’s yet to accomplish such a thing.

The young, callow four-clawed dragon bounds away like a flying dog.

Meanwhile, I effortlessly conjure a concealing fog.

My heart is disturbed, and for once I’m in no mood to sing.

Snaking through the azure sky, I obey, lifting the nourishing mist

The final moisture allowed by the Gods for the Emperor’s draconic Fist.

Sorrowful, I change the climate and create a searing drought.

A garrison lays siege to the plateau, the fate of the villagers in doubt.

Then I learn the Emperor is arriving to oversee this vicious twist.

Days turn to weeks, the unforgiving sun cracking the soil

The hardworking peasants have nothing to show for their toil.

The water table drops out of reach, irrigation daunting.

The well-supplied Imperial Army lays siege, always taunting.

The elderly and the youngest pay the price for “turmoil.”

I appeal to the Ancestors and the Gods, my Masters.

“Can we not end this pain and suffering faster?”

“Imperial Dragon, you must maintain the Earth-Heaven Wheel.

You must apply your gifts for the greater good, not for how you feel.

Your presence and majesty make you greater than any spell caster.”

Flying away from the Heavenly Palace, I am so dejected.

Divine meddling with mortals doesn’t always go as projected.

I’ve lived long, and not easily earned my Imperial rank.

With my captured Pearl I’ve little else to prove, to be quite frank.

Some things in life are senseless, and ought to be rejected.

Rising defiantly into the stratosphere I buck the rules

They do maintain the Balance, but are manipulative tools

Staring down into the troposphere I devise a little plan

I am thinking of the common welfare of every woman and man

My heart goes out to them: modest, short-lived but not fools.

Spinning and twisting, I create blanketing, continuous rain

Gently soaking deeply in the soil, soothing the pain

Of thousands of hardworking, innocent villagers

Facing imminent onslaught by the Emperor’s pillagers.

My impeccable dual service record gets fatally stained.

My magic is far too powerful to be reversed

I land, telling the villagers they had been cursed

Bowing, I create months of emergency provisions for all

Knowing soon I will not be at anyone’s beck and call.

Until the crops are harvested, they will survive the worst.

The Emperor arrives, outraged; I’m way out of line.

“How dare you shirk your duties and side with peasant swine?

The rebels are cowards and will never show their faces.

You should know these coolies have to learn their places.

And I thought we’d be celebrating with dancing, women and wine!”

“You just don’t get it, Your Highness,” I say, surrounded by guards.

“Your despotic behavior will shatter the Balance to shards!

When word breaks you’ve come to watch people suffer

The Empire will destabilize and have no buffer

You are capricious! People are not ruled by a deck of cards.”

“Imperial Dragon, you are a rebellious traitor and a plague!

Your actions and your sympathies are conscientiously vague.”

Leaping, I weave the rain clouds with winds and create a supercell

I become an intelligent tornado and send them all to Hell

The Gods arrive and kill me. There will be no new Egg.

The plateau villagers prosper, never forgetting my sacrifice.

The Balance is restored. The new Emperor is much too nice.

The Gods are quiet now, mindful of the divine cover-up

The villagers toast me as a hero, lifting their glasses up

I smile, because I exist again as one of the little village mice.