Saturday, November 15, 2014

Poem-A-Day November 8

Prompt: blind

On The Occasion Of A Fun Run/Walk Up A Mountain

We stand at the point
where our people will turn
off road into the last four hundred
metres of bush.

Cameras ready. Intent.
We steady ourselves for
appearances of extreme importance.
We clap winners politely.

We are not there for
fast runners, most of us.
We are waiting for winners of a
different kind.

Thus we stare unseeing
at other peoples’ people
as they stoically sprint, stagger or stride
up the last scenic slope.

If I do not keep my eyes
on the bend where you’ll turn
I won’t get that photograph you’ll need
to share on Facebook.

And here you come!
Your shorts being beige not black,
I know you from this distance, your will
to reach the finish line

bright enough to give me
back my sight, translate it through
a lens and see a different you – member
of a visionary crowd.

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