straight
from the whistle
i played wide receiver
to sacrificial
passes.
i turned to run
catching
nurture;
i tripped but
ran again
to catch
a country's
heritage.
(2)
nature
knocked me
down,
but i donned
my gloves,
got up
and ran
to catch
education,
freedom,
faith,
family,
health,
healing,
home,
sense,
sensuality,
spirit...
(3)
at half-time
i recognised and
began to revere
sacrificial
team-mates:
you who blocked,
and block
for me daily
at the line of scrimmage;
you quarterbacks
who fired me darts
of hope
to connect with.
(4)
in the final quarter,
the endzone waits
for all;
tactics, in time, change
and so i begin to
play the passing game
for my own
wide receivers.
with sacrifice and
grace,
let me pass the
ball
of all I am
to you.
Posted for Poetry Jam: Sacrifices.
(With reference to any American Football fans, I'm a complete novice and if I've mistaken any aspect of the sport I profoundly apologise!)
