I remember the towering Ferris wheel,
Spokes aglow with garish green neon,
Buckets bristling with captive riders -
Screamers, swingers, those aloft for
The view. I can see the wheel as it
Sweeps them skyward, their backs
First to the blazing carnival lights,
Then to the stars; and picture the
Slow swing over the top,
And the graceful drop toward earth.
I remember strolling along the midway,
Wide eyed, excited, trying to take it in,
Tempted by the siren songs of wiley
Pitchmen to, “Win a plush toy! A ring!
Try your skill; ya only need to break 3!”
Music. Disparate kinds of music
Filling the sultry night air, songs
Clashing with each other,
Calliope vs Bee Gees head-to-head.
Mouth-watering aromas: the hot, greasy
Lure of French fries; cotton candy’s sticky,
Pink sweetness. In the yellow glow
Cast by food trailers, hungry, hurried
Folks formed in ragged lines moving
Too slowly for instant gratification.
I was hungry, too, but didn’t stop,
Heading instead for the dim,
Deep shadows around the Fun House.
I’m not sure why they called it a Fun House.
There wasn’t really anything “fun” about it.
Squatting malignantly in the one dark
Corner of the carnival, festooned with
Clowns leering sinister leers, maniacal
Laughter pouring out of every door
And the shrieks of the lost inside.
If it was fun, it was dark fun.
But I still gave the bald man my ticket.
I didn’t mind those quick-shifting floors or
Those wild, disembodied, cat-call howls
When I stumbled, fumbling for some
Purchase in the near-dark. Shaking
Walls didn’t shake me, whistles and
Air jets were surprising, that’s all.
But I hated those mirrors!
Lord, how I hated those rotten mirrors.
Those thieving, malformed panes shaped
Me into a creature grotesque and hideously
Misshapen. Hardly a trace of the girl
Who’d come through that cursed door
Just minutes ago. Small things ballooned
As proportion and perception were lost,
And for maybe a heartbeat,
I believed the lie and gave into despair.
If you stare into a twisted mirror too often,
You’ll lose sight of who you really are and
Start to believe lies and distortions
As they dance in that crooked glass.
You completely lose sight of the truth.
You’ll buy into the implied accusations.
Don’t let the mirror fool you.
You’re so much lovelier than what you see.
If the eyes are the mirror of the soul ….
What do you see when you look at you
Through yours?
God, Who created you in His image and likeness,
Never intended for you to view yourself
Via a Fun House mirror.
So don’t.
