When I look at those tents, I feel my blood drain cold. There was malice and greed and cruelty to
animals and people who aren’t dressed in society’s clothes. The “hucksters” came out like roaches in a
dark kitchen of a ten-story building owned by the City. They crawl and look for wide-eyed youth or
lovers walking hand-in-hand to fleece.
Dirty floors where animals are treated like slaves. Fed because there’s no choice not because the
animal is one of God’s creatures with eyes and ears and tender feelings much
like a baby who is dependent on its mother to feed him or her. Sad eyes peering through iron bars like
jailed prisoners who languish in boredom but keep watch for reasons untold.
The grimy souls clothed in clownish finery cloak such tragic
truth nobody desires to behold. Peering
behind the curtain offers no magic only saltwater tears shed by circus freaks,
giants and gypsies. There is heartbreak
written on each and every face I see.
Some are in the past, others in the moment, all walking towards fresh
cuts made by the ugly truths uncovered in a flash or flicker.
My own heart breaks from the moaning and weeping, whimpering
and mourning silently screaming in my head.
Is it me again? Am I wrong
again? Do I look for problems where
there are none? No. I see and hear what some cannot. We look and listen, why so different? They aren’t troubled by the sights and
sounds.
Leaving the fairgrounds, shoulders slumped and raw-faced, I
have to let it go and keep moving until new noises and pictures take me by the
hand and return me to my childhood hunger for peace and a handsome prince.
Yvonne A.
Jan 2020
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