We are all in the ring
or sitting ring-side
ready to bet, cheering and loud.
Our faces are flushed
with the lust to succeed.
It has become every nation’s creed.
The struggle brings
too much sorrow to contain
in the single, small vessels
that we be.
It is not for me alone that I mourn;
but, for all facing hardships and doubts
only they can know and feel
like blows to the ribs, upper cuts to the jaw,
bruised to the bone,
forlorn and alone.
Have we forgotten how to be
part of a peaceful community,
of teachers and students,
of priests and congregations,
of parents and children,
of even two lovers such as we?
Or, is the struggle meant to be
single combat waged separately?
Every direction I glance I see
a fight-ring where combatants dance.
I take no comfort, feel no glee
in fisted gloves or bare-knuckled fights.
I feel every blow on my own body.
Stop building such rings
and dismantle those we see.
Or, is the betting too lucrative
and are con-men too attractive
to bring to an end
their fronting the purse
we all think we can win,
while they abscond with millions
and tell us great lies?
How could we not have learned
playing chance with fire
means we all will get burned.
While we fight,
they win.
