poem 382 of a poem a day for 2012

fare lo sciocco e forsennato, fedele al dolore

I am the property of the family d’Este

dusted off from life to life

with destiny and might, you see

they out branch from their base

in the deep mountain roots

with pipers and papal vicars

and with what tools the loot

with what pockets reason and illiteracy

and the sown seed spread dread

that comes without faith

and without bread

without coin

or laboring stone

or body for amusement

or purpose

to a lord, a lady

or the manor itself

one grows slowly mad

finding what is fun

for one’s self

for the fool

while entertaining others

is enduring pain and sorrow

finding ways to borrow

time in cycles and seasons

in the haberdashery  

with pieces of his sanctity

sold for warm beans

and cold mead

and a quiet place

to bleed out

the many coats 

I wear 

are disarming

while resting a bit

before the story

is to be re-told

to the next court feast

needing this fool and his scroll

while they are spilling their wines

stabbing at flesh to fill their tines

I am back here

practicing my lines

EJR ©