‘The Magic and Mystery’, a show from my childhood,
came back into town on a truck and bus tour.
So I strolled to the neighborhood, where the theater’s marquis
displayed two words, instead of four.

“Where is ‘The Magic’?”, I called to the man
who stood packing letters away.
He turned to me sadly, “Those protesters there, say that it’s evil and
we don’t want a big scene today.”

I walked to the people stacking signs in a van and asked,
“You leave once you get your way?”
They said, “No, our signs ‘No Black Magic’ are called hate speech;
we tried to explain it away.”

So I turned to the Reverend, there on the curb,
hoping he’d set the record straight.
But he said, “I can’t stay, I’ve been told my words
blur the lines between church and state.”

“It’s true,” said the Atheist, standing close by.
“However, I too have been silenced.
On the corner, a shelter asks how I can debate higher thought
when there are animals dying.”

I opened the door to see kittens and dogs.
My heart pitied them, the tabbies and beagles,
but the secretary sneered, “These aren’t endangered,
save your tears for the lions and eagles.”

As I stepped into the street, a girl with a clipboard
asked me to sign a petition to say,
that all are equal and valued before the Lord
and should legally be treated that way.

But before I could take the pen in my hand,
the van with the protesters pulled up.
And the Reverend, Atheist, secretary and man
from the ladder came and called her corrupt.

Slowly I walked back to the theater and saw
a small boy, who could have been me.
With a top hat and wand, he gazed in awe
at the poster for ‘ _____ and Mystery’.

He turned to me, puzzled, “But where is ‘The Magic’?”
I said, “It’s gone, so it seems.”
And I mourned for the boy and I mourned for a nation
that values offense over dreams.

~

Relephant:

Pretty Much F*cking Magic.

Author: VK Lynne

Assistant Editor: Hilda Carroll/Editor: Caroline Beaton

Photo: Pixoto