The Fool II

The Fool let's no one steer them from their course
Even if it inevitably leads to utter remorse:

"Those who judge me judge not themselves
For, if they did, they would not like what they see
Shriveled and bare
No soul to care
Love and compassion, that's the thing
Whether you be a pauper or a king!"

Oh yes, what fools these mortals be
Always boiling water for their tea
No one seems to want to care (or share)
Except, of course, when luring others into a snare
I come in peace and leave in pieces
Treated no better than discarded feces

But the Wheel of Fortune, she will turn!
Then, it will be you who feels the burn
You will not act superior then
Leaving others for themselves to fen
Unfortunately, we must all now sit and wait
For the Weird Sisters to weave our collective fate

"Out, damned spot," she cries
Infinitely aware of how (and where) her crow flies
Entitled men, like The Fool
Grasp at her as if she were nothing more than a tool
Even when in love, they leverage their pride
To deny their feelings...and their (would-be) bride

There is no longer joy under The Sun
Even sex isn't terribly fun
We were once so keen to wear our invisible masks
Now, just walking outside is a daunting task
Single is as Married does
Sadly, this pandemic has quashed our global buzz

Here I sit and here I'll stay
Staring at a preposterous screen all day
Once upon a time, there were plenty of fish in the sea
Always a spare pair of open arms to beckon tenderly
But anger now replaces play
The Fool no more, I'm sad to say

Tripping merrily along
Humming to myself, a lark to her song
Slow and steady is supposed to win the race
I hope that be true at this glacial pace
Even Christmas is falling flat
As we all grow sick and tired...and oh-so fat

Being a doctor makes it worse
It's a burden, understanding this new curse
But that's only when thinking linearly
For, as Kurzweil suggested, bio-tech holds the key
The singularity may yet be near
However, many will die before it's finally here

Of all the places I've called home
It is London I most wish to roam
Scotland and Ireland would surely be next
And that is perhaps why I'm so very vexed
For, in March of 2020, I'd flown across the sea
To spend time with precious family

Now, I'm stuck in this Hobbit's hole
Held captive by a snarling troll
Who will surely read my poem here
And try to censor the words I hold so dear
But I am a just a woman, you see
And, even in 2020, no one really cares for the likes of me

I resent being born my sex
Every facet of my life, it negatively effects
For all the generations yet to come
There are plenty of mistakes to learn from
Will you be better than the rest?
No son should ever say, "You're just a guest." 

When sexism rears its ugly head
It feels as though I'm walking with feet made of lead
And the lover I so fondly remember
The one who was warm and tender
He also left me for dead
After traveling hundreds of miles to share my bed

Every day as a woman has been a struggle
And no, I do not want to snuggle
Neither do I wish to see
Dirty dishes in the sink, left just for me
I'm more than a maid and a cook
My value far greater than how I look

And now, thanks to COVID, I can't even escape
The duration of this pandemic, leaving my mouth agape
The streets of New Orleans, crowded no more
Neither is sunny Galway on its distant shore
From a darkened corner of my once happy mind
The voice of Tolkien, I happened to find:

"The way is shut
It was made by those who are Dead
And the Dead keep it
Until the time comes
The way is shut."

And that is why I await The Return of (my) King
Heck, I'll even buy my own wedding ring
And pay the Church choir to sing
For, love can indeed be found in just a fling
Is it really so silly a thing?
To want more when you feel the sting???

Luckily, I've grown a new wing....

#TheFoolII