the fool

The Fool
by Lauren Harrington

With colors
alight
in a dingy room
amidst the greys, the gloom—
he jests, juggles, he falls
to pick us up.

Then we laugh (never at ourselves)
and laughter
sounds and resounds
as before us our follies unfold

Before uniformed faces
he performs, flatters, he fools
with quick tricks
he breaks our
rules—
then bows.

Paid in applause
to clown,
he smiles to himself—
somewhat up-side down

for he knows—

his mask of idiocy
misunderstood
in a world that takes itself too seriously.

a world that doesn’t yet know,

that only the truly wise
play the fool.