I want to disappear
To day’s spent by the tracks
A field supposedly green but in this case a box of chocolates
Grazed with a few strokes of white days before an event.
Nothing else mattered in all about thirty seconds;
Only then could i be called a expertise in maths,
As i calculated the distance to the tape.
The best they said
This i believe with many a laurels as proof
In the air i did dash as nothing could stop me
Even the cold hand of breeze
That slapped and pinched my dark skin.
Seconds so blissful with undivided attention to whatever lay outside the tracks
Most times an impending test.
Some time between seventeen do i hear a thud
My race was done as acute pain swept through the left ankle
Had i lost balance
Or had the prayers of my competitors overshadowed me.
Defeated! As i wiped of my tears
That seemed to escape from their confinement
As repeatedly was i beckoned for a race i couldn’t race.