None knew his name
None knew his name nor did they ask,
for he was the jester for their pleasure
light entertainment with each new day
but they knew not his name, nor did they care.
He wore tattered clothes with holes in his jeans,
and beggared daily in their small town
but very often went hungry and thirsty
as they laughed and used him for their small jokes.
What brought him here, they did not know,
but wicked smiles flashed when he appeared,
and they kicked gravel in his path
for he was just a stranger with tear streaked face.
Would they perhaps care if they knew,
how he fought for their freedom so far away
in a land where good and evil held hands,
or would they still treat him as they do today?
Maria Call 2013