The performance expresses meaning through gesture,
gentle stories and tales without words to venture.
White washed face and biggish eyes,
timing and theatrical endurance wise.
Pointing towards the human sensitive struggle,
how to keep the soul, mind and heart to juggle.
Like the fool of tarot card and number zero,
through owns life journey ever present hero.
Reflections from people driven by needs and urges,
that fallen into some deprivation as it emerges.
Indication of looking before leaping,
too much emphasis on lustrous reaping.
Excitement and spontaneous so very fickle,
no true commitments rather a sour pickle.
Taken to many steps ahead and topple,
trying to be the best being a role model.
Invisible violin played as message blunt,
when appointed drama becomes too bund.
Simple expressions to simple act,
truth speaks further then the fact.
WHOSE KID IS THIS ?
I wasn’t involved with those strangers at all:
Parents busy in a line at the counter, their
Child of two, three floors up in the mall,
Looking down through the glass panel there.
Biggish gap between panel and floor.
Found myself worrying whether
The kid would slip through and be no more,
If he moved, I was ready to tether.
He did. I lunged forward fast -
And so did some other guy,
Obviously watching closely, also aghast.
Saved. But whose was this small fry?
Could be your kid today; could be mine tomorrow.
Every kid is in everybody’s care.
Whether they had joy or sorrow
I was deeply involved with those strangers there.
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