Sometimes, the turbulent and troubling reports of our current political and social state make us feel like we’re stuck in an endless loop of war, famine, and poverty. Our future is a game, and the world sees fit to spoil our path to triumph.
one does not eat without knowing that another starves, one does not vote without the thought of a shackled man cowering at the hands of a tyrant, one does not sit beneath his roof without the knowledge of a young boy sitting in rubble and waste, his mother’s corpse nearby him, decomposing. Giving herself to the earth.
The game has once more begun, and our hand is weak. The table has been set unkindly, with our pieces captured and nothing but pawns for us to maneuver. Our adversary, the same one that our fathers and mothers played against as did their fathers and mothers before them, sits across us, with all the right cards and all the right pieces. He does not tire, and he does not rest, nor does he wait to move. He thinks not of mercy. He thinks only of attack.
Our mothers and fathers made their moves and played their hands, some good others not so. They played gallantly, and they played sharply. They played unwisely and they played clumsily.
Now, it’s our turn to play.
Yes, our cards have been dealt. Yes, our pieces have been moved and captured. But such is the way of this game. Let us not feel false nikhedonia as our forefathers did and let us secure this victory, a real victory, for the sons and daughters to come, for every man woman and child.
For if not us, then who? Will the dying birds and falling trees help our cause? Will the starving children and burnt villages of lifeless bodies play our hand? Will the droves of homeless souls and wayward states infested with black money and moral-less men move our pieces? Will the boats of refugees steer us through this ocean of chaos?
Better yet, do we hope that the adults will make their wrongs right? Do we hope that those that claim to be enlightened by the sealed world of adulthood will be our ultimate saviors? For those who think in such a manner and answer ‘yes’ all I say to them is this.
It is no longer viable for us to allow this earth to spoil like fallen fruit or wither like unwatered grass. Our predecessors have done enough. It is no longer time for them to reap our gardens and fields, leaving us amidst ash and soot. It is no longer their turn to gamble away our future for an election or coin or commodity. Our cards have been dealt but our fate has not been sealed. Our cards have been dealt but our game has not yet yielded a victor. Our cards have been dealt but our future has not yet dawned. Our cards have been dealt but our path remains clear as summer day.
And so to the child who can write, I ask, write for those whose hands are bound. To the child who can speak, I ask, speak for the voiceless and the oppressed. To the child who can run, I ask, run for the shores and embrace those who limp towards you in hope for solace.
Our cards have been dealt, but we know the rules of the game
Our cards have been dealt, but watch us win.