The Last Carrousel poem.

THE LAST CARROUSEL

We saw you there
with your beautiful child.
Her perfect flawless face
pressed against yours.
Your face was twisted, distorted,
but your child didn't know that.
It was hard to look at you.
Our worldly perceptions
caused us to avoid your "difference."
We laughed and talked with you
as the horses went round and round.
Carrousel faces meshed with yours
and we weren't sure which we were seeing.
You could have been a fixture
on the Merry-Go-Round.
If you had stepped into the circle,
you would have fit right in. No one
would have noticed you
and your outward appearance.
Lights and motion blurring
and veiling your deformity
so that we could possibly
look into your heart.
But we avoided your heart
and we went our merry way
as you lifted your daughter
onto the carrousel.
You stepped into the circle
yesterday.
And God smiled
on your perfect face.

Janet Brice Parker, 2003
Dedicated to Mark Webster,
1961-2003