Black Christian Mind

Humiliation of a Circus Slave
by Sabrina Dawkins

A morsel of meat, lukewarm,
a trick performed,
a cage in which to sleep,
with bars forever shown,
cages stacked atop cages.

How did I get here?
Sharp claws and fangs,
a body three times my trainer’s size.
My roar terrifies reasonable men.
And yet I remain
in this cage.

Oh, yes, I remember.
I felt a sharp sting.
I went to sleep,
a sleepless dream.
I awoke in this cage.

To eat, I do tricks
taught by my owners.
The treats are paper thin.
And the less they give,
the harder I work
to perform correctly my circus acts.

I practice over and over
rolling over, standing on hind legs,
jumping through fire hoops,
balancing on a line.

This is my job.
My instincts go dull.
My trainer is my friend
who gives me treats
for going opposite my nature
and becoming a pet
instead of a king.

My instincts have gone dim.
They parade me around as a conquered beast,
taking my place as king.
And I work for their paper-thin treats.
The humiliation, I vaguely perceive
turning silly tricks far beneath me
for the paper-thin treats
and to wake up in a cage
over and over again.

Physical strength was no match
for their darts that shut off my brain.
I awoke in a cage stronger than claw or fang
with my mind fixed on treats,
under the control of my owner
who trained me with a whip
and paper-thin treats
so I didn’t have to hunt my meat
and my mind could stay asleep.