Power games

We play with power,
It's a match.
You hit the shuttlecock and it flies above the net.
It fell on my playground while I thought I was not even playing.

The woosh of air distracted me and then
I bent to pick it up feeling hurt that I am loosing in this game
of seeing and wanting to be seen,

A thought run across the stadium and entered my head
it whispered that as much as I would want to feel neutral I am also a player here,
even though I know I had stood on the loosing ground from the very first whistle of the coach.

And so we both stood for a while across the net screaming at each other,
raising our voices louder day after day,
until the ears bled and throats became dry.

And tears came out from our eyes,
because as much as the match was between us we had also put all the force into the blows,
all those moments of helplessness that we gathered over time, we had put them nicely into the boxing gloves and began to hit each other in the name of the past that had nothing to do with your eyes and my smile.
It just happened to be there and we both picked it up to finally take revenge on someone, even though we had never been enemies.
........

I wish you well, my friend,

even though my arms are covered with bruises
I do wish you well,
deep inside in those places that I hide from everyone else,
because it feels easier to lie and say that I am enjoying the game;
...
but I am not.

I wish you well, my friend,
even though I feel defeated because you hold all the power and I walk away in shame as the audiences watch on both the sides,
I still wish you well.

From the depth of my heart,
I wish you victories in your battles
as I walk away towards mine,
I wish you climbing up towards the podium
as I walk away with the memory of your voice in my pocket,
when my branches slid through the tiny cracks in the walls that you built around yourself
and I watched you sleep trapped inside.