The Olympians
Yes, they will tell
legends of the man who swept
eight disks of gold in
China’s games, who broke record
after record, flying
through the water, in ways I could
not fathom or attempt –
not now, not ever in my state.
The man named after
lightning will also be remembered,
who ran with ease into
history’s annals – with smile saw
the others labor, suffer
for breath, while he drew energy
from deeper place, and had
some instant to spare and see.
But these two and many
others, beautiful, powerful, the
apex physical of man,
these have their own humming chorus,
the laurels heaped upon
their crowns, money offered by
their patrons. I sing now
of those forgotten Olympians.
Yea, these command my
wonder and honor, the cripples
who forgot themselves what
they ought not do: far excel
those that have two arms
and legs in will and spirit to win
and conquer destiny
herself, with half their resource and fame.
You think this show
grotesque, that they be set against
each other, as a farce of
sport. Hate, for what I can change
if their excellence
cannot, their courage that exalt sport
for what it ought to be:
perfection first of soul, then body.
You see not the miracle of
God that shows through them?
That such imposition is as
badge of honor for us, for we
show to self the supreme
potential of man in extremity,
to rise and command the
fates with will and Godly grace.
I need not defend them:
their actions are the monument
erected for their memory,
the races I sing of as bard of old.
Let their memory shine,
that I lived when the paralyzed stood,
and ran, when the deaf
rose from water to hear cheering crowd.
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