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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required POLITICRABS (A series of "The Armor Crabs In A Bucket poems") An ancient folklore forged in African deeps, A design so perfect that time itself repeats; Unrelated life takes on the same hardened shell, In the grand design where the armored creatures dwell. The Crabs walks with five pairs of legs in sight, While the Anomura hides its soft tail from the light. They drum upon the sand, they navigate the maze, With stalked eyes looking out across the shifting bays. But the warrior must change to grow within the sea, It sheds its outer walls to set its body free. And in that silent hour, when the carapace is gone, The mighty, armored king is vulnerable and wan. Like a fallen king stripped of all his iron might, It hides within the shadows, waiting for the light; Yet if a limb is lost to the predator’s sharp blade, A new one will regenerate, a brand new claw is made. But pull them from the tide and throw them in a pen, And the ancient, armored beast becomes a mirror unto men. A single crab alone could easily scale the wall, But crowd them in a bucket, and they cause each other's fall. We look upon the vessel and we label it as spite, The human tongue decries it as envy in the night: "If I am bound to perish here, then you shall perish too," A socio-political law that holds the modern view. Yet nature does not malice what the human heart designs, The truth within the bucket is read between the lines. It is no calculated plot to keep a brother low, But a frantic, blind survival where the desperate clutches go. They grab the leg above them just to lift their heavy frame, And drag down the ascendant without a conscious aim. The road to our escape is blocked by crowded hands, As the panic of the vulnerable reshapes the shifting sands.
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