AN OLYMPIAN IN OUR MIDST

Team USA is headed to Rio to compete in the Summer Olympics.  Sure, the athletes come from someplace, but not usually my own neck of the woods.  There’s nothing like a brush with fame to rekindle one’s own internal fire.  Heartened, we dare to dream, embrace our own talents and abilities, strive to make the most of whatever we’ve been given.

FIFTY FEET FROM GRACE

A middle-aged Aqua-Robics class:
overhanging bellies, cellulite thighs,
boobs not quite contained in Spandex
shaking to the beat of a boom box

Backward, forward, left and right,
losing our rhythm, falling out of step
Alongside us, a tireless lap swimmer
whose chiseled arms are turbines

propelling her lithe, graceful body
down the lane (somersault) and back
She is an Olympian, the lifeguard says,
a triathlete who will compete in Rio

Just being in the pool with her,
moving around in the same water,
inhabiting the aura of her celebrity,
envelops us in a wave of energy

We jump, lunge, push, pull and twist
with renewed vigor, glancing her way,
gaping in awe when she exits the pool,
dons a prosthetic leg, and walks away

She’s the embodiment of bald courage,
a rising star in a galaxy of dreamers
Envious, wistful, emboldened, I muse:
Dare I pen words with equal audacity?

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