The Dividers

Of the dividers, be wary.
Of those that poke and prod, but smile and nod,
then point and blame, but have no shame.

They play the game, they play the game.

We are all more similar than we are dissimilar, but the divider’s don’t understand that.
We are all, to some varying degree,
emotional… people.

But we are all people.

We all love our children.
We all yearn for meaning in our lives, and we all wish life was fair.
We all bleed red.
There is no ‘us‘ and ‘them’, there is only us,

But us is vast.

The bigger us gets, the harder it becomes to understand folks on the far ends.
So, we shout.

It’s not always shouting-in-anger as much as it is shouting-to-be-heard that we, in the middle, hear flying over our heads all day.

If we can help people understand that this is the noise we hear and see, we’ll all be better for it.

The dividers, though?
They like it this way.
So have not a doubt.
They, in shadows, cultivate the crop
— ‘Divide and Shout’.

I know,
that you know,
people like this.

Pay them no mind,
and spend no time,
playing in their games.

We mustn’t play in their games.

Our attention

is their lifeblood.

One response to “The Dividers”

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