Like a racehorse, I’ve spent a lifetime exhausting myself,
trying to shorten the distance between us. As often as
I’ve sprinted, ears back, eyes wide with determination,
other times I’ve let myself jog, walk or even sit, wiping
potential’s dust from my face, a chorus of boos exploding
in my head. There have been days when I thought I could
catch him, when the right word, the right dream all seemed
within reach. Yet despite the sweat, the pep talks with God,
sooner or later I’d watch him disappear into the impossible.
And now, the chase long over, I carry his memory on my back
like dead soldier, not so much as an admission of failure but
as a reminder that the sooner I bury him, the happier I’ll be.
(first published in Crosswinds)