The Performer

Beatrice Ross

Winmalee, New South Wales

Australia

 

Picture It Competition Entry – Picture A

Behind the mask, the empty smile, the performer hides his toil.
The curtains draw, the spotlight hot, his skin begins to boil.
He takes the stage, plays his part, recites his pithy lines.
But behind him lies a deeper cause, a balance act on high.
On the edge, holding tight, teeter here and there.
The tightrope sways and twists, hanging over air.

And when the curtains fall,
when the day is done and dusted,
he strips the clothes, the fancy dress,
the mask, the face, the act.
He sinks down deep in darkness,
and dies another day.

The makeup hides a deeper truth,
a soul deep care for death.
Poor Pedrolino, pale Pagliacci,
teardrop on the cheek.
The gentle ending nightmare
of life is at his feet.

The child dies within him,
his life so cold and empty.
The performer plays his final act.
Now throw the man his penny.

The noose pulls tight and heavy,
swinging to and fro.
Now back once more,
swinging to and fro.

The balance act is over,
the performer hides no more.
Now takes a final bow.
No reason to applaud.

Fin! Finis! Finito!
Now, now, no need to cry.
T’was just an act, a final act.
A burning urge to die.