They cheered for them—
moms with cameras, dads with proud eyes—
I stood alone,
four medals in my hands,
three gold, one silver,
like they meant something.

I ran fast today.
I always do.
People say it’s talent.
My stepmom says
it’s because I like running from my problems.
She laughs when she says it.

She doesn’t know—
I run
because when I run,
the pain stays behind
for a while.

No blades.
No pills.
Just breath and burning legs
and the sound of my heart
trying to beat louder than the thoughts.

I crossed every line first
but still came last
in the only race that mattered—
the one where someone waits
at the end.

Sometimes I wonder
what it would feel like
to look into the crowd
and see someone who looks like love.
To have someone call my name
like it meant home.
I wish I had that kind of family—
the kind you don’t have to earn.

Honor your ancestors, yes?
But some take that to extremes.
Even going so far
As to apply it to themselves,
In the physical sense & mental.
That being the oldest of them,
Instinct & emotion.

For to them the mind is wasted,
For them the body is nothing.
For them the mind is nothing,
For to the body of it is wasted.

In the sense that they are anymore
Man than any other kind of animal,
A concept so tiringly clung to.
So thoroughly discussed is mankind
That its philosophies are disgusting,
Unrecognizably distorted.
Those in actuality & reality,
Cloaked by sick games of telephone.

For to honor pridefulness,
For to shame modesty.
For from pride is derived honor,
For from shame is made modest.

If by death die the lies,
Then execution is the only honesty.
Then dying is the truest mercy.

For therein, what is just?

If in the journey of life
We have neglected to have collected
That of the mind;
If in the path of destiny
We have stalled not to have gathered
That of the soul:
To have connection to nothing,
Free from attachment,
But not to have been liberated.

For three are the siblings.

Yet, thee are siblings;
How shamefully you treat family,
How scornful you are of relatives.
Friends? No!
Acquaintances? Not!
Neighbors? Get lost!
What fields you salt
With crops you allow rot,
Clipping the stems of the spoiled
And smashing in the ripened.

Countless leaves of these branches.

What makes an athlete great?

Is it the shoes or the pace
The coach or their grace
The time it takes to finish the race?
Is it the hours in the gym
The drive just to win
Or the people cheering for her or for him.
Is it the desire
That un-bottled fire
That rages and urges us faster and higher
But who bought them the shoes
Thought them not to lose
Picked them up when they were tired and bruised
Yes I crossed the line
I put in the time
But they all came together to make victory mine.

The core beginnings of a noble dream, of what would seem, foundations laid

With skills attained, such talent emerged, yet still submerged in discovery

Become what be, to demonstrate, independence taking shape

Cross-country weather, so partake and so awake receptive minds

A watchful teacher realised, true potential, born to run

Of motivation so begun, the time had come, the race was won

With thoughts aside, the skill, the stride

Set the challenge, pursuits to pick, a desire to run would surely stick

Seeds of inspiration, an opportune time, yet to behold

Set to unfold, to make the grade, the army trade

Demonstrate ability, join adventure, climb the course

Years of service, tested trials, ran the miles and set the pace

A choice to face of prominence, the passion to take precedence

Discovered star, back on track, all set, attack, assume the plan

Full circle to where it all began, go the distance strength and speed

Destiny awaits, kick for home, continue straight, due applause reverberate

Realisation of a vision, go for gold with dynamism

Setbacks seen and overcome, double Olympic champion

A discipline of due success, professionalism ‘be the best’

Focused victory, a mark in history

Accomplished gold with heart and soul

Broken records, broken mould



Written by Geraldine Taylor ©