A steady ship in murky waters
Where the crocodiles of past threaten to snap
At the heels of the wilderbeast as they pass
Across undrawn borders to taste the water
And strive to reach the other side.
From bombs to camps to reach more camps,
Like stranded pawns in a drawn out stalemate
Of kings and a queen
Strong like a rook, the bishops unseen
And the knights long left to save the dregs
Of a teabag left too long to stew.
So stale, this tale, that reoccurs
Through epochs, empires and genocides,
And tired, the weak sip meek chamomile
For a brief respite through melancholy nights
In the face of cold, hard, calculated spite.