This may be the game
but it is not mine
This may be the game
but it is not life
So much complexity
So many things to study
So many permutations
to distract us, keep us tangled
The hand you’re dealt, we’re told,
You have to play
You may be lucky, privileged or poor
Or maybe you are brilliant but disturbed
Addicted, disadvantaged, or a rising star
It only makes a little difference, though:
As long as we’ve consented to be playing
There isn’t very far that we can go
We all remain imprisoned in the game.
Today I mouth my infant words
of no
No, I won’t play; no, this is not my game
I won’t define you by your cards or course
I won’t pick up the dice of shame and blame
I won’t be cowed by game-incurred alarms
or things the game insists I have to prove
I won’t let any game-based definition
distract me from my purpose and my love.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 3, 2012