The Clown

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