A player rises as
the Earth cracks beneath
the spilt blood of our fathers.
He rises craving a power
believed to be touchable.
A superior power one might
win playing the Game of God.
He falls as another takes
his place and the rains pour,
our mothers wail into the wind.
Their cries are carried to another
that tries to play the game
with power of control they reign
using fear and force.
Players keep coming and falling
believing the powers are real
that they are the ones to win
yet, naive of our will to fight.
A secret lies in the Game
hidden in powers of trickery
a person is easily fooled
by the imaginations of the mind.
the American Eugenics Movement and Eugenic Philosophy
posted for One Shot Wednesday week 40 at One Stop Poetry
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*Rivers Ruminations is a quarterly column I have wrote for two and a half years.
