We burn the pagan puppet to releaseUnhealthy obsessions and stress,
Everything that brings us gloom and despair.
We scrawl these worries on scraps of paper and
Lay them on Zozobra's massive pyre.
The marionette rises 50 feet,
Towering over us,
Intimidating,
Threatening to hunt us down,
Trample us with his despair.
But before he can laden us with more
Silly human demons,
We set him aflame,
Fire lapping at his immense feet,
Engulfing our fears,
Divorce papers, despised photographs,
Troublesome documents,
Taking them to ash and consuming the
Monstrous effigy,
Lifting our burdens in a dangerous blaze,
Freeing us,
If only for one night,
From the freaks
That nag at our souls.
© Poem Fix http://www.poemfix.com 2012
Photo by Jeff Weiss
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