Merry-Go-Round

by Doreen Peri

Stuck on the merry-go-round
we can't get off, it seems.
Multi-colored horses heads rise and fall,
surround our dreams.
The gold ring up in front of us
is clearly out of reach
and yet we try to grab for it
with each and every revolution.
While there are no simplified solutions
to our predicament,
we stay on a children's ride
as if we'll solve each argument.

Inside our pockets, we hold some coins
to gain entry to the magic ride again--
but each time we board
we ride the ride we'd hope would end.
With determination stored within,
we try once more to reach the golden ring.
Around and round we go
while listening to the carnival bells sing.

My horse is red.
it has a main of gold.
He holds a silver bridle in his mouth
while rearing back his head.
He bares his teeth, as if a screeching neigh
will soon enough be hear.
I sit upon his saddle, absurdly riding
north then west then south then east.
His reins I hold
as if... if I let them go I would fall down.
And yet I still go round 
and end up then where I began.
The only sound I hear is my own voice
which whispers don't give up
inside my ear.

Your choice to ride the white stallion
decorated subtly in grey
and stationed only two horses away
from mine was a choice I cannot figure out.
You are behind me, or somewhere there about,
and while my horse goes up and down upon the pole,
yours is stable, steady,
seemingly in total and complete control.
His nostrils are not flared like my angry steed.
Instead, he stares ahead with fortitude,
as if you both agreed to take an easy
Sunday jaunt.
The music swirls inside my ears as if to taunt me.
I cannot see you riding there behind,
but I know you're there
intruding with a steady speed.

I look at the tents and clowns and games 
you cannot win
that pass before my eyes
again and then again and then once more
again.
I want to get off my horse and find a place to rest, and yes,
a place to lay my head.
I want to stop this futile round and round and plant my feet on steady ground
instead.

As if I haven't an iota of control,
as if my horse has captured up my soul,
torn it up in pieces,
took it up and called it then its own...
I hold on tight --
as if the slightest movement of my hands could tighten up upon the rein 
and harness the force that I least understand.

Faces pass with smiles and laughs.
The kaleidoscope rotates a blinding mirrored 
light.
We ride around and round again to the place
we we again begin
and then we ride around again.

Don't you see I'm right here up in front of you?
Don't you want to tell the man to stop the ride
and find a place where we can do
a dance or have a piece of pie?

The rhythm of the lights
has crossed my eyes.
I'm blinded and I cannot see.
The clowns are laughing incessantly.
The juggler smiles from ear to ear.
He's far away then near.
And you're still riding right back there
as if you could catch me when the ride is through.

My horse is red with fiery eyes
painted bright with glitter on their lenses.
He seems alive and senses that he's trapped
within a wooden skin.
He takes the madness of his fate 
and then creates a three-beat gait...
an endless gallop round an endless sphere.

Although I cannot see you there,
I know you are behind.
I wish the man would stop this ride.
I wish he'd be so kind.
I've tried to stop it many times....
but when I do, I turn again to find myself
sitting back still upon my horse.
Each time, his anger's worse.

I'm reaching for the ring, but
can't seem to see it at all
It's up ahead in front.
I see it now.
I reach to pull it down and nearly fall.
I don't know how my arm can reach that far.
I only know that the way the star shines
from the north upon the golden band,
it seems so close at hand.

I know that if I keep on trying
hard enough,
one day I'll pull it off and hold it
in my hand.
And as I understand the purpose of this madness,
my determination will least subside.
Tough as it may seem,
by capturing the golden ring,
I'll then control the ride.
Once caught, I'll hold the sparkling jewel
and tell the man who operates this ride to
let me down.
I'll tell him that the ride is over now.
I'll tell him to go home and have dinner with his family.
I'll tell him then to let me be.

It seems so strange
how you sit patiently upon your 
leather saddle,
as if the ride to you were just another 
battle to be fought but never won.

I wonder if we ever stop this maniacal machine
and you catch up
to me...
if I'll run to the funny mirrored halls
where then I can't be seen.

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