THE PLAYINGFIELDS

My world
what does it mean.
Is it only this playingfield
of Earth?


This body
that bears a name
saying it's me,


or something
more intimate
as the spirit me.


The game
of make believe
when we were small
seemed
so easy to play.


Remember-
when you played
in the yards
with friends or alone
imagining
yourself a Knight,
Damsel,
a King
or Queen.


The wonder,
the freedom
of those moments
that seemed to go on and on.
as if there were no time, no time.


How all
would banter
back and forth
exclaiming their imaginings
to be the best-

I can hear it now-
"No! Let's play Knights!"
"No! Mine's better. Let's play Pirates!"

(Look at my universe.
Can't you see it?")

When the playingfields changed
by others more powerful
who by age or status elected
to tell others what to play.

In places like schools
and churches and chomes-
and rules- agreements marching
to the beat of the clock
going
tick-tock,
tick-tock.

To grow old and arthritic
our youthful bodies
once fearing not
a leap,
a risk.

But now to feed
on daily prescriptions
just to stay even
with the next
tick,
tick,
tick...

And pray to God
our souls to take
to the banished worlds
cast beyond
where meaning's trapped
on the playingfields
of our dreams.

You say,
Why do you write such sad verse?

Very well.
Say no more.
Look no further-

than for your Pirates,
your Kings and Queens
who wait for you
on the playingfields
of your dreams.
~~
Copyright 2010 Francis Don Daniels.
All Rights Reserved.