Prince or Puppet
By Linda A. Copp

I wonder if we are their puppets?
And if they can change the scenery
without our consent?
And if they can make and break the furniture,
As if we were no more than papier mache beings,
existing in distant forgotten places?

Are we to bend, to bow at their command?
Are we to do without, Or to make do with,
When they take our chairs,
our candles, our horses,
And all that we struggle so to attain,

Then tell us the burden, must be ours,
While, all the while, they still sit,
they still see,
They still ride.

I wonder, I very much wonder,
If it isn't too bad we can't all be Kings,
Or Princes or Counts, or Noblemen.

How easy for them to decide
when they have so little to lose
And we have so much.

Yet, were it to be the same for that same King,
That same Prince, that same Count,
That same Nobleman,
Were he to share in my misfortunes,
Were to expect what I expect,
To bleed as I must bleed,
To hurt as equally as I must hurt,
Then I would honor, then I would respect.

I wonder if we are their puppets?
And amazingly enough,
I thought,
They were supposed to be ours.

By Linda A. Copp ©