They seem so light, feathers. They float in a breeze.
Defying gravity, they rise and slip-slide through the air before our eyes. Yet in a team, they lift
the mighty eagle high heavenward, soaring between peaks and stupendous
sequoias. Swooping over, in, down and through the Grand Canyon, the American
Eagle is a sight that inspires. It reigns over all the kingdom there, in the
wild.
Elsewhere, fake eagles want to soar but don’t. They have
lost their buoyancy. They drop, not float, toward a harsh landing. Yes, a
feather here or there, falls free from the wing, the body, the soul, of the
fake eagle. Its surrounds are seats of power, mainly in Washington, DC. But
other power sites stretch their ‘wings’ in New York City, Los Angeles, Miami, Chicago.
Let us not overlook state capitols, too; much goes on there by wannabe eagles.
Like Fake News, fake eagles are among us.
The fakery does not include sinew as strong as the real thing.
No, their glue fails and feathers dislodge. The carcass is soon found without
the power of flight. It drops like a lead weight.
Our fake president is losing altitude. He is flailing in the
wind. He looks in terror at the fast approaching ground. Will he glide to a
safe landing? Will he dip and soar yet again? Or will he crash land?
Bit by bit the smoke and mirrors disappear. The king has no
robes. No protectors. He has no power. He truly never did.
That is how he was born and raised. To expect things to be
handed to him by privilege. To take what he wants. Make excuses later. Or fake accounts for others to believe.
The victims are too numerous to count. They build like a
mountain of hurt and resentment. They move and slide toward their nemesis. Soon
they will overtake him and bury him like he did to them without a tear or care
in the world.
That’s how privilege acts. It is an entitlement. It’s a
wonder they have the balls to accuse others of the same slight.
August 28, 2018
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