The (false) Narrative of Powerlessness - a poem

aka they only win, if we let them.

The Buchenwald Memorial of the GDR - A depiction of camp life within the concentration camp of Buchenwald on the theme of resurrection. Photo: Jay Siegmann

The (false) Narrative of Powerlessness

They told me,
in voices carved from centuries,
that power was theirs—
etched in stone, bound in law,
woven into prayers whispered at dawn.
They told me to sit still,
to listen, to accept,
because that’s how it’s always been.

And I believed them.
Their story seeped into my marrow,
wrote itself in the corners of my being—
a script I thought was mine,
but wasn’t.

They crafted a tale,
repeated it until it rang as truth:
"You are powerless.
This is the order of things."

But the order was a lie.
A claim, not a fact.
An assertion shouted loud enough
to drown out the quiet hum of questioning.
A story performed so often
we forgot to ask who wrote it.

For years, I fought,
braced myself against the tide,
shrunk into shadows to survive.
Each moment of fear, each gasp of panic,
a surrender I didn’t know I was making.

Until I stopped.
I stopped and saw the strings—
thin, brittle, desperate.
Power wasn’t something they held.
It was something I gave,
unknowingly, unquestioningly,
handed over like it was theirs to take.

So I began.
Peeling back the layers of their lie,
unearthing the roots of their story,
dusting off the truth buried beneath.

The truth that power isn’t theirs.
It never was.
It’s a construct,
a house of cards they guard with threats
and tales of inevitability.

But houses of cards crumble
when the wind of truth blows through.

Now, I write my own narrative.
One where power is shared,
not hoarded.
One where the old story fades,
and we step into a new one—
not crafted by the arrogant few,
but imagined by all.

When we stop believing their tale,
when we stop giving them what they need,
they lose the very foundation
they’ve stood on for so long.

And we rise,
not as a rebellion,
but as a remembering—
of what was always ours.

"The Narrative of Powerlessness Reclaimed"

This altered version of the Buchenwald Memorial relief tries to bridge history and art, juxtaposing the past's oppression with a contemporary narrative of liberation. It was inspired by this poem. The bold colors symbolize the journey from imposed narratives of despair to reclaiming agency and truth. A poignant reminder of resilience and the enduring human spirit.

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This poem emerges from a deep reflection on the systemic narratives that have shaped societies for millennia—stories of power, control, and inequality crafted by those seeking to maintain dominance. Rooted in traditions and institutions designed to reinforce their authority, these narratives seep into individuals, making powerlessness feel inevitable. By questioning these constructs and reclaiming the agency long denied, the poem challenges the single story of subjugation, inviting a new collective narrative where power is shared, not imposed.

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