“Rope, Unraveled”

I heard the phrase rope-a-dope this week and fell down a rabbit hole of meaning. Endurance, surrender, strategy—it all lives in there somewhere. This little poem was my way of unpacking it.

I used to hang there, counting every sway,
thinking patience was wisdom and bruises were proof.

Now I watch the circus from below—
the ringmaster still grinning, but what happened to the tent?

Rope-a-dope, dope on a rope,
Who hasn’t been both.
Then I realized:
the rope was mine to drop.

Testing gravity,
I’ve learned the trick:
sometimes the smartest move
is loosening your own knot.