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The game for 'She’

 
None could win that game you see.
At birth, it had been created for ‘She’.
 
That oldest couple,
I mention no names,
showed her how to prepare
and lay out that game.
They demonstrated how
to employ time and space,
to create a frame
and give it a place.
 
Mastering that first effort
made way for the other, more skilled methods.
 
First,
The oldest man, with no emotions
taught her through appearing tough,
how to make a perfect bluff.
He showed the wonder of appearing aloof,
and disguising her personal truth.
 
Second,
The oldest woman, never guilty,
knew through playing the victim,
the devious powers of martyrdom.
She would set a tear and wait for the same,
then find another on whom to cast the blame.
 
Third,
That first boy, with the face of an angel
who also knew how to play,
came her way.
He exhibited being trustworthy,
then revealed how to re-mould honesty.
 
Fourth,
That second boy, with the protective shield
showed her a manoeuvre,
to turn things over.
He could carry out a feint,
create disarray and play the saint.
 
Fifth,
that third boy, who was “a patient man”,
who wrote the scheming of deceit,
taught her how to cheat.
He used the knowledge of a library,
to play with anyone’s vulnerability.
 
Now, the sixth was in fact also the first, and the best, and that was from theirs of their kind.
 
Sixth,
That first lady, with the tongue of a snake,
taught her the skill of the fall.
She would drill deep and make one feel,
then make one trip at one’s Achilles heel.
 
Seventh,
Now that was a sprinkle of a manoeuvre, from her own.
 
She let them scheme, let them deceive.
She observed, she learnt, she perceived.
She let them move till their last glee,
so they believed they were conquering she.
Then just before they thought she’d fall,
she inserted her own manoeuvre and “conquered” all!
 
None could win that game you see.
At birth, it had been created for ‘She’.
 
But just when she’d “won”,
she felt that shame.
She saw how the game had stolen her name.
She saw that each manoeuvre
had added to the structure
of a prison around her true spirit.
By playing she had become possessed.
She’d hurt them and hurt herself in the process.
 
She gave in.
“I have no more will to play that game,
I surrender to myself and embrace the pain.”
 
She hated what she had come to be.
With tears, she cried for her spirit to be set free.
 
Then, came into her path,
that first boy, with the face of an angel.
Just after he’d surrendered to the game,
he had truly begun to own back his name.
To push him away, she revealed embroidered secrets,
yet he could cut through
the bars of those manoeuvres
until inside those bars, her he could see;
her light, her spirit, her true inner beauty.
 
He knew she was ready to break free.
 
He then taught her the first maneouver
to destroy the game that had imprisoned her.

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