The Game Of Chess Poem by Theresa Haffner

The real meaning of things is not
usually at first perceived.
Temporary objectives may assume
exaggerated importance that will
quickly subside once its purpose has
been fulfilled and the real purpose
behind the purpose emerges.

Whether you play on the board or off
the board, every chess player knows
you have to think two moves ahead and
you have to protect your pieces.

Because chess is mortal combat.

The King, who is yourself, male or
female, rich or poor, each of us is a
king in our own right—

is the master of this game we are
playing.

His pawns are his friends and
supporters. They are vicious attackers
and able defenders.

Do not underestimate their power,
because a single pawn can bring about
his opponent’s checkmate when the rest
of his pieces are gone.

Group hem in flanks about your king
for safety.

His horses go out in pairs. They can
maraud and defend. They are called
knights, but their true nature is more
that of a knave, a jack, a ne’er do well.

They are the independent contractors
who for their own purposes will do the
King’s dirty work.

They are the burglars and thieves of the
dope dealer’s company that act as
backup, the enforcers who answer the
door and screen his clients, sometimes
called lieutenants.

Every property owner has more than
his share of them.

They may be sincere or insincere. They
may be loyal or talk behind his back,
but when their destruction is through,
they will be the first to be sacrificed.

The Bishops are his spiritual advisors.
One White, one Black. One good, the
other evil. They battle like the right
and left hand paths.

Eventually, however, they too will fall.

The Queen is his wife. The love of his
life, whom he would do anything for.
Who means everything to him.

Most powerful of pieces, she operates
the household, controls the finances,
and in the flash of an eyelid can cross the
entire board and meet the opposing
queen in her own parlor, on her own
terms, and can back her down.

He loves her, but when the opposition
brings in their big guns to check and
counter check, he will sacrifice her, too.

Then the King will be left alone,
surrounded by the passel of what
pawns remain, and the lateral attacks of
the distant Rooks, lifeless castles,

the empty real estate left around when
the queen is gone.