The Circus Performer

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
We perform on the tight ropes
On the fake cracks
Of ring-master’s whip,
Amidst the loud laughs,
And the lusty cheers –
At the same show, every night.
 
The children are awe-struck,
And even the parents sit transfixed.
They are struck by the realism
Of the bravery
Of the spectacle
Only to laugh, later, at their own naivety.
 
There is cruelty, behind the curtain-
There is love and anger and ugliness;
But this is no theatre-
Here, at the circus,
Only the laughs count,
So we paint our faces, when the show begins.
 
There will be real tragedies, at times,
When the foot shall slip from the rope;
The ringmaster shall call the clown
With the fake tears
And draw the laughs,
And the other performers shall take over.
 
We know the circus is only a show, a lie-
Though sometimes I think it might be for real;
But we have lived this life
And know no other,
And we shall die here,
And the show, they say, shall go on.
 
***
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About Abhishek

I will let the blog speak for itself...or, at times, for me. View all posts by Abhishek

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