That Sense of Powerlessness

A Poem

That sense of powerlessness you feel
Is just privilege leaving your body.
It's finally your ox being gored today,
For no better reasons than the others.

When you've grown accustomed to waiting,
Seeing what shakes out before your next move,
It's a little unnerving to watch
As they flip the board, sending pawns flying.

But down here among fallen bishops,
Unhorsed knights, crumbling castles, deposed queens,
There is holy life in the litter,
An army of the saints beneath the throne.

The king bows his head low as the rest,
Ultimate symbol of futility.
Only here can you at long last hear
His plea to forgive all the tormentors.

Only here can you at long last see
The way the light filters into the eyes
Of each one whose pain you've failed to note
As they welcome you with love to reality.

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