In the home where shadows twist and weave,
A bell covered jester walks, a soul for them to deceive.
With cap of night and bells that toll,
The jester dances through the darkened shoal.
In days of yore, when darkness reigned,
The jester's words, like knives, were stained.
With wit as sharp as the mountains peak,
The ringing jester, I, pierced the hearts of those who'd creak.
But in the theater of my very own despair,
I find myself beguiled in a snare.
Forced to wear a mask with sorrow's guise,
While inside, my crippled spirit cries.
My family, the lords of jest and woe,
Their laughter masks the depths below.
They prance and play upon life's stage,
Yet hide behind a rusty painted cage.
But in their jests, I see the truth,
A twisted dance of age and memorials of youth.
For in their laughter, I discern,
The echoes of a soul's slow traumatic burn.
For though I may be the jester, jesting too,
It is they who wear a mask miserably askew.
Bound by chains of their own design,
They mock and laugh, yet hearts entwine.
But I, the jester, hold the key,
To unlock the door and set us free.
To see beyond the masks that they comfortably wear,
And find the love that may genuinly linger there.
So let them laugh, let them jest,
For I know who truly is regressed.
In this very land where shadows dance and leap,
The jester's laughter is the keeper's keep.
To speak the truth, to mock the lies,
And find the courage to solemly rise.
In the realm of shadows and rotting despair,
The jester's privilege is laid violently bare.
-Aubs
April 25, 2024
(Poem was written as point of view of an Olsen sibling.
-Austin, Andrea, Alex and Aubrey.)
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