Cue the Calliope

It is a circus.
All noise and garish costumes.
Slight of hand and so much
going on that the eye cannot focus.
All the parts moving.
Entrances and exits and the calliope playing.
The ringmaster, the least skilled of the whole troupe,
directing the show with aplomb.
“Do not look behind the curtain!” he cries,
he hopes, he commands –
commanding being his stock in trade.
The lions! The clowns! The trapeze!

Do not look close.
Do not look look in the daylight
with eyes less dazzled.
The costumes are poorly made,
loose stitches and cheap cloth
mad glamourous in the low-lit dark.
You will ignore the tricks that miss,
led by the ringmaster to look
elsewhere. The crowd oohs.
The crowd ahhhs.

Outside, the sideshows.
Poorly attended. The stragglers
who have seen the circus too many times
and wander outside the big tent.
Not lost exactly, but not willing to buy
a ticket for a show they have seen before
and no longer believe in.

About this poem

At times, friends have suggested I write a political blog. I come from a political family, and I am a natural observer. I am also old, so I have seen a lot of our political circus. I have a tendency to understand what is happening, and what will happen next.

This morning I spent time thinking about the politics I have seen in my nearly seventy years. Movements and political circus. It’s a little amazing the changes we have survived. A different circus every few years.

But I have chosen the sideshow. I am not up to the abuse that comes with politics and political opinions these days. I write to issues of the spirit at times, but pure politics? I live in the sideshows, less popular, but with one advantage – I can touch people one on one while the circus rages on. I can speak to the things of the heart and soul. Eternal, not ephemeral.

Cue the calliope,

Tom

PS – The picture was taken at the Shelburne Museum, in Shelburne, VT.