James Moore Poet Narrative

Freak Show

Freaks creep out from the cracks
Peeking from behind their masks
Tentatively removing the veils
To test the light of day.

Sun, the source of purification and growth,
Accommodates all without distinction,
It is after all the source of Life,
And so within its light the freaks shine.

Moon, on the other hand, 
Transmitting and muting Sun’s harsh rays,
With her passive face in reflection,
Hides in cool shadows what lies within.

The freaks empowered by their shadows
Emboldened by Sun’s clear light
Take their place out in the open
As if it is their birth right.

All men created equal, after all.
But the light and shadow are not the same,
As life and death are not,
And yet in the freakish they are merged.

What is this nature that seeks to morph
Into some novel and new form,
Something creative and self made
For the simple pleasure of self expression?

Visions come and visions go
As any dreamer will tell you
But the ones that remain within the light of day
Are the ones that need release.

Rights of passage, rites of exorcism
What the world builds up, it brings down
Wave upon wave, carrying all detritus
Is the way the unwise learn.

Humanity has learned this dance long ago
Accommodating and healing all that arises
But relegating it to its proper time and place
A day of festival to let it out, and put it all away.

(11/6/25)

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