At the table sit the able and fittest of society
Whether that be true or not does not matter
As they think of only others like them
The able and fit in society to benefit
And what of those not as able or fit?
They are forgotten, they have no place to sit
So a society stays benefiting only the "normal"
While the lives are gawked at and hurdlers bigger for the "abnormal"

While walking through a warm afternoon
that suddenly turned from bright to dim,
with blazing clouds that began to loom
and shadows grew deeper and light was thin:

My way ahead was unexpectedly barred
by an iron gate, its lock snapped shut.
It’s topped by spikes well made to ward
off hurdlers, sharpened, made to deeply cut.

Past the gatehouse, a tunnel, a fallen shelter
from the rapidly coming hard rainfall
that once was sung about by a jester
in time with a tambourine, as I recall.

It leads to a light that’s still ablaze
where sunbeams’ sheen still sparkles bright,
beckoning us all to pass this gate
that looks at first glance a menacing might.

To stay before this wrought iron fence,
its spikes tipped with red poison that drips
into the soil that’s in cracked distress?
I won’t just wait here in the dawning eclipse.

No lock is unpickable, no wall too high
for those with the will to reach new skies.

A swarm of blue and white
Shot-putters hurdlers sprinters javelins long and high jumpers
Congregate before esteemed guests whom the PTA did invite
To secretly scoff at losers and worship winners.

Not quick or strong,
All I could do was jump high.
Alwyn came in stone last in the cross country after long.
Poor chap – their sneering and booing made him cry.

Soon after, it was my turn,.
Third jump – down went the pole.
Alas! – one corner poked me in the back. The pain, the burn!
Need something sweet for the shock, like a Swiss roll.

Into the common room I went,
Where smoky, limp athletes unwound with a movie.
There I encountered three foes infernally-sent.
Alwyn was among them – out to get me.

“Why are you crying?” one goon prodded.
“I got hurt by a pole,” was all I could muster.
At this, Alwyn’s raucous laughter erupted and exploded.
One day I’ll get you, buster.

Didn’t you cry moments ago when they sneered at you?
So, your solution is to do as the Romans do?