by Jay Frankston
Do not mock him
the village idiot
who runs naked
through the church of our beliefs,
of our prejudices, of our arrogant convictions,
our unyielding demands and our placid acceptances.
Do not mock him
the village idiot
who breaks the glass
we toast each o ther with
and drinks the wine
as it flows from the barrel,
the blood of Christ,
martyred Jew
who believed in love,
the God of us all.
Do not mock him
the village idiot
who dances over our freshly covered grave
to release the laughter
from our buried bod y
so it can rejoin the ethereal soul
and laugh for eternity
at life . . . the biggest joke of all.
Do not mock him
the village idiot
who sings the praises of the unworthy,
the virtues of the sinner,
and the magnitude
of the smallest of us.
He knows truth
and his reflection can be seen,
village idiot, in your mirror.
Jay Frankston
wlp@mcn.org
- Share this Poem:
ABOUT THE POET ~
Jay Frankston was raised in Paris, France, and came to the U.S. in 1942. He became a lawyer and practiced on his own in New York for nearly twenty years, reaching the top of his profession, sculpting and writing at the same time. In 1972 he gave up law and New York and moved himself and his family to Northern California where he became a teacher and continued to sculpt and write. He is the author of several books and of a true tale entitled "A Christmas Story", which was published in New York, condensed in Reader's Digest, and translated into 15 languages. His latest work is a novel entitled "El Sereno" which was 10 years in the making, took 2 trips to Madrid, Spain, and has an authentic historial background of Spanish events from 1918 to 1973.
Last updated June 03, 2011