In a Court of Clowns


In a court of clowns
a jury seeks my judgment
without knowing me.

They all think they know
because of my hair, my skin—
because they were told

what they can expect
—do/don’t trust, do/don’t like us—
these people like me.

Then you wonder why
I/Us tend not to trust you—
one of us must start.

But forgive me, please
if I don’t make the first move—
history repeats.

Still, it’s up to us
the variety-pack mob
to decide our fate.

There is no one else.
When leadership has been sold
we must be leaders.

All the kings are dead
and the heroes all have fled
in this court of clowns.