By all accounts, I am alone
As one who travels town to town
Performance! Performance!
They cry to me
And I dance,
though weeping
The Epistemology of pain:
If it hurts it must be true.
Do not let my tragedy besmirch my sweet words
For in the stillness between the weeping and dancing
I am quiet
Watching
And the world passes by
A brilliantly conceived,
A brilliantly conceived, artfully penned character study of carefully concealed pain.
You did a superb job of transferring the experience to the reader: Don't we all, at times, "dance,/ though weeping" in our everyday, human performance?
Particularly profound was "the stillness between the weeping and dancing" where the Sojourner becomes the audience and the world becomes a frantic, fleeting stage play.
You leave much open to interpretation with an ingenious economy of words, and that is, to me, the gold standard of art.
Stunned and applauding.
This poem's brevity is coyly
This poem's brevity is coyly deceptive, as its contains depths of profound meaning. The Epistimology of Pain (hurts therefore true) is a brilliant approach to the issue of pain. I particularly like the way the Sojourner speaks from those interdimensional niches between weeping and dancing to admit a quiet observation of the world passing by. This adds a metaphysical or supernatural aspect to the Sojourner's existence; perhaps a sequel or two might extend our understanding of this very interesting character.
Starward