By Paula S. Robin
Welcome to her rodeo. I didn’t sign up for this role. I’m no one’s clown. Why am I still here? She is mounted high on her horse, both center-stage. Smoking cigarettes and talking over coffee, I step inside her talent for splitting people and dividing souls. There were locks on all entries. I gave away the part that was central to the whole. Well, darkness, I missed you, old friend. Let’s take a stroll on streets paved of gold. My heart is broken; I’m being used, even after you’re gone. Why don’t I leave? Nothing compares to you. How did it start? Such a simple answer for a complex question.
Don’t you walk out on me. Do you think I’ll be back someday? You said to leave sorry for herself behind. I left her sorry self. It’s been so lonely without you here. If the sun comes up tomorrow, should I let her in? When the sun turns to dark, she always rides away while l stand holding this bar up. I’d rather be sitting in the morning sun. I don’t want to leave you lonely. I feel so lonely in your company. Stay with me reader, it’s the split. All the times you’ve screwed me over. It’s always something that I’ve done. You’ll giggle at my funeral because I didn’t beg sooner.
That’s a mighty fine-looking high horse beneath you, beautiful. This isn’t a feeling; it’s a state, down, down, and down. Mercy, it’s not a game. I’ve had enough. I let go; I let myself go. Take comfort in me, friend. You are dead, but you still have a pulse. You got knocked off your horse. You’re feeling nervous, aren’t you? Don’t ever let them steal your joy. Take my hand clown, they kicked a little dirt in your face—nothing a little war paint wouldn’t cover. You’re funny, little Clowny. It’s good to see that grin.
The jokes on her. You will cross that forty-day dessert. I’ve seen the end. Why is paradise where I end, and ironically where I begin? Take me to church. See my back. I got my back. Standing up off my knees. Your words fall flat. You can’t fill these holes, you can’t fill broken promises, you can’t fill my shoes. Knot I, not even verbatim, will do. I’m rescued from too far gone in 8.8 seconds. This time the bull won’t throw me off. It’s a game I made into a sport. I have to face life’s challenges like a champion. It’s not a silly dream, nightmare, or daydream—no more fantastical thinking.
Reality, I can’t drink you away. I can’t pardon you anymore. You don’t give me what I need. I was thinking, don’t think that’s the truth. When she calls, I won’t go. It’s amazing how you speak through the dark. The smile on your face, clown, says you’ll catch me if ever I fall. I realize quickly when I knew I should, I feel a little peculiar. I don’t know where my home is. It pains me so much and takes so much from me to climb back up that horse. I know I have to give me away. It’s all been said before. I act like somebody else, and it all gets complicated.
Cold, why do you have to be so cold? I’m not inside. This exhibition is all about showing my skills. This rodeo is a roundup for those tired of letting yourself go down, down, and down. The presence and present linger, and for the things time can’t erase, this one’s for you. Who says you can’t go home? This time and place, misused by more than mistakes. I love you. Last chance, I’m reaching, extend your hand. I miss you. Together, you need to say it, and I need to hear it. I need to write it, and you need to read it. I forgive us.
This is living life. This is life-giving. We all get lost. I promise you; you won’t find me vacant again. This is the anchor to reality. You and me together. Eternally I know where my soul is. I’ll give you just one reason. Did you recognize the use of the symbolic horse I’m riding in today’s rodeo? The horse is quite often a solar symbol, and in the scripture, it is one of intelligence, strength, selfishness, anger, stubbornness, stupidity, and vanity. Careful trying to rope all that into you, unless you want to become someone or everyone’s clown. How do I know? I’m an experienced, hefty paid, rope wrangling, bull ranging, boot wearing, belt buckles, blue knuckles, jeers from peers, and loyal fan-based clown. I live to shoot the bull.
Another gem, Miss Paula!
This had a much more somber tone than some of your other pieces. It’ll definitely stick with me!
Thank you Harriet.
So thought provoking !! Outstanding!
Our number one fan! Thank you for reading, Miss Tracey!