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The Game
By: Giaunna Broadhurst
With lines from: “Deporting Soldiers? Why Immigrant Veterans Fear Removal From US”
By Anna Oakes.
Morning or night, sound fills the street,
Whether it’s important or just a debate about where to eat.
Another sound creeps;
This one?.. It’s less discreet.
A piercing sound that, to some, may hurt,
A sound that made not even the birds chirp.
Morning or night, sound fills the street,
But it’s not laughter or a cry.
This time,
It’s a symbol to run or to die.
Men in masks begin their crusade,
And it marks the beginning of
Their twisted game.
Some people run,
Others hide.
Some had children,
Some had wives.
Morning or night, sound fills the street,
But this time, it's the sound of weeping.
One by one, people will leave the street,
But the news will tell you it's because of the heat.
Morning and night, silence fills the street.
Some managed to flee,
While others got a white sheet.
We march and fight and pray for equal rights,
But the ones who are too loud are silenced with a gunstrike.
Morning and night, violence fills the street.
People are afraid to go out and eat,
Some too afraid to even speak.
Men in masks continue their crusade
And say they’re doing it in the name of the God they praise.
Days go by and the game continues;
Every question asked is deemed untrue,
And propaganda is spread
that they do it for you.
Months go by and the fatalities climb.
Only the ones sworn to protect are doing the crime.
Three tours of duty during the country's war in Iraq,
And now he’s worried he’s next in the plot.
"I was trying to make a difference."
Isn't that ironic? He tried to make a difference, and now he may lose his independence.
Women, children—nobody is safe.
Not you, not me.
Nobody is safe in the "Land of the Free."
Years go by and the streets are quiet;
No more protests, no more riots.
This game ends, but another will quickly begin.
The gears that once stopped start to respin.
It may be a different time
Or a different place,
But the rules of the game?
They never change.