Spoken Word Rwanda - The Move

Gaze upon the open battle field checkered in splashes of midnight and dawn.
Weep for the courageous who weather storms of war, ever-ready to lay down their life for the crown
Tremble in fear for the two armies are pushed beyond peace, bloodthirsty and crazed they seek only his head on a plate.
"You boy, go there," he thunders.
Then a reverberation from the opposing general, "You sir, gallop here."
Slowly, the puppeteers unveil their genius, their sequential, skillful, strategy.
One soldier here, another here, and one more there.
they march, weapon in hand. vigilant. obedient. ready.
Sliding, slithering, scheming they move into position.
Sharpened steel refelcting beams of provocation into piercing, opaque eyes
The tension slowly rises, builds, then brims on the verge of buckling disaray.
It's here. It's time.
We have encountered that paramount moment.
The moment where the sands of time hover midflight, all breaths are skipped, and a brisk breeze cools sweat stained shoulders
The moment of interlude before a chaotic conclusion.
Someone is going to fall, but fall they will in belief that in the ashes of their demise will rise hope for their leige.
And so it begins.
One after the other, the generals order men to their doom.
He moves.
One after the other, they move ever forward to their fate.
He steps out.
One after the other, both sides begin to crumble into oblivion
He charges forward.
One after the other, commrades take up the fallen, flailing flags
He says those words.
And alas upon pause for respite, the fog that is war lifts and reveals the prices paid for oversight, ineptitude, and sacrifice.
He reflects.
The commander soaks in the warmth from his setting sun, opens his tenacious eyes and cries,
"I must do this. You must do it my dear, my Queen-there. To your death"
His last try.
"A bold move," the opposing general booms. "The right move. But twas in vain. Castle here. Checkmate."
He loses.
Many sunsets later, the headless general continues to ruminate on that sentiment, "the right move"
Of all possible 100 moves, was there truly a single right move? A best decision?
Can he even still look through the lens of defeat and confidentily cling to his choice.
Who knows.
Each day, at each moment, he hauls the tokens of his life through spears and daggers,
Then with his own blood and sweat he paints his own battlefield of soldiers
He surveys his masterpiece, his own piece, then pieces together.. choice.
He still remembers the day he kissed her.
Friends for one year, he kissed her.
Lovers for 2 months, he kissed her
Separated by oceans for one month, she kissed another.
Choice to action, then tit for tat retaliation to disallusioned, desolate defeat.
He postulates, was it still the right move?

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Entertainment

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