By and large, donkeys have had a bad press: they are stubborn, intransigent creatures who have to be harried, prodded and beaten into doing tasks that the far more noble horse will willingly undertake; they are what idle, disobedient boys turn into in Pinocchio; they are gloomy, melancholy pessimists like Winnie-the-Pooh's friend, Eeyore; or, at best, they are hee-hawing clowns like Shrek's garrulous companion.
George Herbert said: “If a donkey bray at you, don't bray at him,” and the Talmud advises: "If one man says to thee, 'Thou art a donkey', pay no heed. If two speak thus, purchase a saddle!” And, indeed, I have, myself, told a rather unattractive tale of a donkey.
But, as I looked into the large, liquid eyes of this sad, weary creature, my mind flew back to childhood and my first reading of that simple, yet affecting, poem by G K Chesterton...
THE OLD DONKEY
When forests walked and fishes flew
And figs grew upon thorn,
Some moment when the moon was blood,
Then, surely, I was born.
With monstrous head and sickening bray
And ears like errant wings—
The devil's walking parody
Of all four-footed things:
The battered outlaw of the earth
Of ancient crooked will;
Scourge, beat, deride me—I am dumb—
I keep my secret still.
Fools! For I also had my hour—
One far fierce hour and sweet:
There was a shout around my head
And palms about my feet.
When forests walked and fishes flew
And figs grew upon thorn,
Some moment when the moon was blood,
Then, surely, I was born.
With monstrous head and sickening bray
And ears like errant wings—
The devil's walking parody
Of all four-footed things:
The battered outlaw of the earth
Of ancient crooked will;
Scourge, beat, deride me—I am dumb—
I keep my secret still.
Fools! For I also had my hour—
One far fierce hour and sweet:
There was a shout around my head
And palms about my feet.
- G K Chesterton
Images: Brian Sibley & David Weeks © 2008 [Click on images to enlarge]
