J’adoube
Chess is the
game we play
during the time
we spend waiting
between
transitions.
Like its pieces,
with no strategy,
we move from
there to
here to
Some-pore. The
wait is not easy;
for, confined to
our home,
this time, are we.
Not safe is the
world around, in
squares
black and white.
Loaded is the
atmosphere
with the pawns
of the virus,
keeping us
from taking the
King. The king
is mighty; it’s
supreme.
In the Motherland,
we are confined.
How can we be
safe
in land foreign?
But we are trying
to start a new
game. The
anticipation of the
change, after
days sixty-four,
is wearing
us to shadows;
it’s still welcome.
In another world,
we craved to be
in the lap of our
Motherland,
but now no more.
J’adoube!
The game is on;
we want to win.
And one will!
Can we beat the
army outside?
The fort of our
dreams is under
attack, and in
fear castling
is more likely.
Should we make
our move?
Should we try?
An equilibrium
is all that we seek,
but first, we must
conquer;
we are not weak,
to ourselves, we
must prove. An
Almighty, almost, is
our opponent, we’ve
come to believe.
Sacrifices, sundry,
we have made
to please this
angel, fallen.
Pawn by pawn,
a rook, a knight,
a bishop. Our
game goes on.
The chessboard
life needs a
break- a splash
of colour,
another sky,
new harbour.
a new meaning
another sun,
a new new
An equilibrium?
J’adoube, I cheat.
Our game
ends every day
in a checkmate
