for Sarah Hughes
Not for gold, but for love--
your arms light and supple like wings.
Little hawklet, eaglet,
skipping along the wind in the joy,
diamonds following your flying feet.
So desperate we’ve been, for so long.
Faces tight as tambourines jangling
our despair, our hearts pounding
prophecies of destruction.
We’ve moved in spasms,
like marionettes with tangled strings.
Perhaps there is no music,
no pattern anymore.
Perhaps there never was.
But here you are at last, lovely one,
here you are laughing
as you spin and spin perfection
all around the margins of the dark.
With nothing to lose, you lost nothing,
and nothing at last was lost.
MFCP. I wrote this during the 2002 Olympics, after watching Sarah Hughes win the gold medal. Remember? It was such a dark time, with the Iraq war in its terrible early stages, and she was such a delight to watch.