A Very Special Matchstick.....

Most poetry on this blog is visually inspired.  But in rare cases,  a friend posts something in prose, that is actually sheer poetry in thought.

My friend Bhavana Nissima posted :

"Matchsticks in a matchbox. Some catch fire on first strike and light a candle or lamp. Some catch fire on second or third strike. Few catch fire but are blown out by wind before they can light a candle. Some cannot light because the wick is damp or there is no oil or it is way too burnt out. In a quiet room, with candles closely stacked together, couple of matchsticks manage to light several of them. And then there is this one. You strike her repeatedly but no fire. Either because the sides have worn out or her edges have been blunted or your hands were wet. The more you strike, the more the edges peel off and she wilts. You fling her away saying “Poor quality matchstick.”
Was she?

Makes you think.  About the flung one.    And you have an answer.  In verse. 

Some
supremely perfect
in an imperfect world,
make a perfect grab
of every perfect opportunity.

Some learn by observation,
and mindlessly emulate.

A few try,
but easily give up,
saying
they are in the wrong place
at the wrong time.

A few
cowtow
to leaders
who play
mass lighting psychology,
teaching nothing
but pretending to succeed.

But there is one,
who has watched it all,
aware
of her genetic shortcomings.

She learns.
She tries.
Like no one else has before.
And then
suddenly finds herself
on a heap of rejection.

In this world,
the strikers are
thoughtlessly blind.

And dumb.

It is not about
perfect sticks
striking hard,
but about
creating a level striking field
so everyone can shine.