Checkmate
Tiny ink-black pawns march across
the freshly printed board.
Two tiles forward, one tile backwards.
A long weary journey, riddled with perils.
One slip, and you are trapped en passant.
We are the unfavoured.
We scrabble for words,
to add to layers of syntax,
piecing together nuances and connotations
to build walls that would protect us
from The White.
The empty, abstract White.
The army of infinite soldiers
with their spatial arsenal - a sea
that threatens to subsume
our only pool of thought,
and erode our only line of attack.
White has the advantage;
gaining the first move,
and forcing us to play
the mad king's game.
Do not belittle the pawns.
Alone, they are insignificant
but they exalt among enemies,
thriving like blackbirds
during dark days.
One word to end it all.
One word, and the crown falls.
Checkmate.
Author's Note: Chess imagery was something that greatly took up my attention and imagination over the course of the year. Black vs White seemed like something I could play with; a palette for me to draw out my musings. Ink and paper, a writer's best company, are also black and white. Can you guess what this poem is about? Imagine sitting on a desk, timer before you, pen in hand and blank paper staring back at you, waiting for you to write, for your life depended on it.
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