I am a soldier in the game of life.
A helpless pawn in a world of nonsense.
Once I was strong and powerful, with high ideals.
Now those ideals are as bits of a broken mirror,
reflecting the rays of the sun and lying scattered about my feet.
I am no longer strong.
My armor is rusted, my sword is broken, and my shield is cracked.
My horse is dead, and I, I am too tired to go on.
-j.m.wise
Editor's note: This was written some time around 1982 or 1983. The passage of forty years makes one reflect on things. I believe it was published originally in my high school's paper. I had been seeking my paternal grandfather's approval for about ten years. I finally got a grudging admission to my father by his father that he should have given me more credit. The next day his wife fell and broke her neck in a grocery store parking lot and died a few days later. He died a few weeks after that. I told no one outside of family what was going on. That unacknowledged grief, the aftermath that shaped me, and the subsequent integration of this shadow will be the subject of another post.