Illusion And Laughter Poem by Michael Shepherd

Are illusions made to be
laughed with, laughed at,
laughed away?

Is the human comedy also
a divine comedy? Should we
not wail, but share the joke?

The children’s party conjuror
and the handkerchief, the rabbit,
the flock of doves – they’re here, then
they’re not… we laugh
at our own disbelief.

This illusion that the world is real,
and that God does not look us in the face
at every turn, in every detail –

should we laugh, acknowledging
a good joke, and ourselves the butt;
remove our own false nose, and eyes and ears,
take out the incarnation from our buttonhole
which squirts squid-ink at unsuspecting friends..

applaud the conjuror?