The Miracle Cure

By Lynn Ockersz

Before the first streaks of dawn,

They throw caution to the wind,

And amass at the shaman’s gate,

Mesmerized by sleights-of-hand,

Of those figuring in the affairs of state,

Expecting to grab that magic potion,

That is said to save humans,

From the now-rampaging dread,

But these harried citizens in a hurry,

Need to pause and think awhile on this truth:

The credulous are easy pawns in big power games.