1-16-92 Game

Durban,South Africa

What a strange time for mourning
As if tears could last for 13 years
As if I could force myself to feel
That passion and pain again
Not as if it was all of life to be
(I hope losing never is)
But a building block of a narrow platform
My feet touched upon one time.

It served as a home for the many sides
Of a growing boy too delicate to see
Acceptance many years away,almost as many
As the facets that did reside there
The ice cold distance of figuring others
The joy of hurting others well
Selfish self sacrifice broken bruised badly
What it means to be part of a group
For a scared little boy who just wanted
To be a part of something,anything.

A group of misfits,who would do all they could
And it was never enough,never
Not even once
For at sixteen what do you know
Of numbers and safety,ritual motions
Only emotions of winning and losing
And all we had were guesses of victory
To imagine the opposite,grasping at smoke
Multiply time a formula we never learned.

It was nice to have the chance
To be part of the biggest heart
And I have felt pain,anger,apathy
For the way the path was changed
But mostly I feel love
For the game,the people,the lesson,the memory
Now to know that it doesn’t have to leave me
That even the champions cried in sorrow
Even if I can not..