I finally did it today.
Tired,
Out of breath,
Ready to collapse,
But I finished.

I've always trailed behind everyone.

But at points in which I wanted to give up,
You told me to keep going.
Stay strong.
Build endurance.
Fight and win.

I trusted you and kept you in a special place in my heart,
Whenever I struggled, I looked for those words of inspiration,
Of Hope.

Then a fight happened,
You insulted me,
Told me I could never do it,
You destroyed my pride,
Made me humble.

Did I cry? No.
Did I give up? No.
Was I furious? Yes.

How ironic.

At the finish line my friends congratulated me,
the coach gave me a pat on the back,
but you weren't there.

How weird,
In the end the one thing that kept me running.
Was the pride you helped me build and destroy.

How ironic

After everything, I only have one thing to say to you.
You built everything and destroyed it,
You assaulted not only my pride, but myself.
Then you left...

But when you left, you left me something.
You left me a blueprint and a message.
The message: You are on your own now.
The blueprint, a blueprint to self training and self reliance.

You showed my humility,
You showed the true state I was in,
You showed me who I truly was,
but you also showed me my potential.

I built on that knowledge,
and with the blueprint,
I rebuilt myself and who I am.

It is ironic.
Because at the end,
The logical thing for me to remain mad.
The logical thing for me is to hate you.
The logical thing for me is to despise you.

But it is ironic.

Because at the end,
On this hill,
Staring into the sunset,
As sweat dripped down my face,
As my heart began to calm,
As my lungs began to quieten,
As the cool winds blew past me,
On the Hill of my Victory.

At the end I only have one thing to say.

Thank You.

Thank You,
with all my honesty and integrity,
I thank you for doing what you did to me.

If you hadn't I would've never been where I am now.

So at the end,
although it is logical for me to be angry, to hate, to despise.
I nevertheless thank you.

Brown oak leaves underfoot, last year's sodden
reminders that newness always ends. But
not today

while the creek, silent in summer, chortles
about last night's rain, full of spring vigor
far below

the limestone bluff edge where
I stand, chert nodules and fractals
peeking through

springy new undergrowth, broke down
limbs, leaf litter and dark soil.  I came
for morels


but it's too early, too chill yet. Tomorrow's
predicted sun may bring them out. Early
mayapple

sprouts fool me, draw me to admire other
understory plants: trillium, maidenhair fern,
spring beauty,

johnny jump-up and more whose names
I knew once but forgot. I came alone and
I don't need

names. Names mean nothing without
voices and other ears. I love the silence
I bring here.

I dance

Alone and in silence
To the music within me
No one hears

I dance

With grace unbalanced
Like a swan on water
With no fear

I dance

Like no one is watching
Even though I know
No one hears

The sweet sound within me

But I dance

With great pride I dance
With love I sway
To the sweet sound no one hears
But I dance anyway