The Great Zebra Debate
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| @Janine Krayer |
The Great Zebra Debate
The zebras convened on a Thursday at noon
to settle a matter of color and tune.
The white-striped contingent declared, with conviction,
that black was a troublesome social affliction.
The black-striped contingent, displaying disdain,
said white was a sign of a weakness of the brain.
Each side had statistics, philosophy, arts,
and several impressive but questionable charts.
They argued of privilege, pigment, and rights,
of who had the claim to the darkness of nights.
They drafted amendments, proclaimed their position,
and formed subcommittees to study the division.
The lions looked on with a lazy measure of glee,
the hyenas were taking side bets under a tree.
The elephants sighed at the spectacle shown,
while both sides insisted the Truth was their own.
At last, an old zebra, whose voice were still strong,
observed that this quarrel had gone on too long.
"I've lived through a dozen such squabbles before,
and frankly, my friends, I can't take any more.
"You've each got your stripes, and you've each got your hide,
yet somehow you've made them a reason to divide.
You graze on the same grass, drink from the same spring,
and bleed just as red as the next living thing.
"You've mistaken a pattern for invented grand design,
and turned a distinction to some sort of holy sign.
You'd better remember, before this gets worse,
those stripes are a feature, not some godly curse."
The zebras stood silent, absorbing the thought,
considering all of the nonsense they'd wrought.
Then someone suggested they graze over there tonight,
and nobody thought to ask which had earned the right.
For here's the great lesson, as plain as can be:
A stripe is a stripe. It ain't a pedigree.
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