310. The Clown
—
I sit on the ledge
by chapel windows
bright colors surround me
but I can’t shake the sadness
—
the woman talks of weapons
and finding another way
talks of two bullets
made every year for each person
on the planet
what a waste
—
I’m just a clown
and when the sun pierces through
the red and blue and yellow
and clear panes of glass
I sit and mull it over
—
it should be simpler
it seems to me
to know by now
the killing doesn’t work
—
I felt a woman cry
when she saw me
because there was another
Gentle One who couldn’t
get them to stop either
—
they still think it will work
the guns and the deaths
and a bullet for everyone
—
but that Gentle One
and I know that
what works
is loving
—
we’ll keep sitting here
on the ledge of the
chapel windows
—
maybe others will see us
and know the difference
between the dying
and the loving
—
© Copyright 2012 by Ann Freeman Price
