a puzzle in three acts
‘people are the answer, answers are the problem.’ –mmcd
I am the fretting fool
jittering on the stage for the scorn of the floodlights,
to let the world mock the mask
over my pain.
Laughter lets the others free
standing above me, careless
of freedom. Beneath me,
I am the poet,
vacant of eye and full of voice
who laughs languidly at the follies of the world
knowing they are his own.
like the one-legged boy on the world’s edge,
to flick change to the rich.
One leg gavottes,
at the fall of a house and the rise of home.
The other leg limps
down a weeping road
to the salt death of the unending sea.
I must lose one leg,
or risk falling.
For now, I want to limp unless
occasion compels me jump.
I’ll sit here on the courtroom steps,
not to fall over the edge of the world.
I am the man bewildered
under some unarticulated curse of simple reason
who must watch as the world spins
for no reason.
We have times for weeping and then
lock ourselves inside another day,
bemused and grieving, in fear
of other memories
that come back for all our talk.
A laughter that made us laugh,
makes us weep.
When we dare to laugh again,
we find the strength of weeping.
I am the mourner at the grave,
as my dead friend walks away.
What can I do