19 Oct 2014


It was always there, perhaps I chose to ignore
Maybe I didn't see, but
I followed it religiously, unconciously
to its natural end
A relay, baton borne by you
To hand over at the limit of your run
Snatching it gladly, i looked back,
Never to the finish, always from the start
Now, finding my pace and stride
Hurdles overcome, the cheering crowds a memory.
I race alone, towards a nearing tape, another handoff
A goal more distant than we could ever guess
You never saw the third hand, finishing before the team was set
But the baton bears the sweat, a print of hands
To carry forth along the measure
Of years a thin red line of blood
Marking the path, run
Straight, run true
One step following
It was never about a win, never a race to the finish, 

always a passing of skill and technique,
Form and futurity.
In the spirit of the run, I feel your pride
Carrying the baton forward
To the next handoff.