Opposing forces, stand strong
on checkered board
of governmentality.
Vast fields of action
past and present.

Rules—unknown, unclear
complicated, ever-changing
without definition,
Unfair advantage-
vulnerable entrapment.

Pawns—First Nations societies
options and manoeuvres are few,
expendable entities.
Restricted moves-
of colonialism.

The Queen’s armies
defending “their” territory
minute allotments of land.
Geographic social spaces-
settlements and reservations.

Bishops—missionary social order
backed by royalty
and a clear conscience.
Stripping languages, childhoods and agency-
doing gods work?

Knights—armored oppressors
poised for tactical attack
ambush the unknown, unwilling.
Undermining intelligence-
paternalistic authority.

Rooks—towering organizations
corporations and global economy
silently lurking in corners.
Casting big shadows-
of entitlement and affluence.

Offense or defense?
Impossibilities for advancement
difficult to move, breathe or speak
without significant sacrifice
or range of influence.

Powerful structures—bureaucracy
influencing actions, policies
demanding conformity.
Supposedly maintaining balance-
inequitable justice.

Distraction, intimidation, domination
dangling financial carrots
tied up with legalese
and indirect subtleties.
We call your bluff.

Pawns in poverty and servitude,
plucked from a playing field
by masterful, invisible
mechanisms in control-
cultural genocide.

“Checkmate”…

-Christina Johns

The hands of power are far-reaching,
And often clasp what’s long been held
In trust, in spirit, in faithful stewardship
A realm where mystery and stories dwell.
Stretched out, no less
A cold caress…
To finger, test, and then molest.
Hidden valleys carved out by the flow of sacred knowledge
Passed from one generation to the next.
The song of power thunders
And leaves humility shaking in its wake
From turrets placed high –
Calls not to prayer,
But to the neon altar where we lay our money, our humanity, our compassion, our best.
A bleeding wallet pulled from the chest,
Find your way ‘round Wal-Mart’s the new vision quest.
It is the song that repeats in one’s mind,
Carried on the winds of exchange and opportunity
A powerful song, sung well by a few
Heard by the voiceless multitudes.
The arms of power like steel can bend,
And crush the needless obstacles
Who dare defy and question why
Such force does not relent.
Mountains moved, and cynics squeezed
The pumping heart of justice ceased.
Leaving naught but galactic biceps
And the lonely space between.
And yet,
The hands of power are large, and can give when will exceeds
The song of power lingers, and carries our good deeds.
And…the arms of power worlds unearth
that we may plant our changing seeds.

-Russell Fayant