Today, I share another poem I wrote years back, that was April 2005, while watching athletes face the momentous victory on the track as others scamper for breath and their struggle to grab the best spot frustrating. The winners raise both arms to show they get the gold; the losers shrug their shoulders and think they could have done better. They all experience the run for life. They differ in their positions in the finish line. They have the same focus to finish the race.
The ribbon waits for my breast
To warm the victory
Gifted with hands, and claps and clasps
With voices, and cheers, and sneers
With arms, and hugs and bugs.
As my heart strides
Touched with pride
My feet hasten a momentum
Flooded with grace, and praise
Yet within springs a wish
Of luck as I start
To step on yet
To runners, as everybody is, life is a race. To live is to run the race. To live is to finish it.
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