Ode To Olympian Keshorn Walcott

With silent sinew and measured grace of an African gazelle,
You flung your javelin and impaled the heart of a nation,
Pierced their veil of despair,
As you slew the European goliaths of a sport of ancient times,
You arose from the haze of obscurity,
When garlanded gold by the world,
Your victory became that of a people,
As suited soucouyants pulled at your prize ,
Strangling you, your medal now a noose. But above the din of the capricious crowds,
Hear the cry of the prophets,
Do not be snared by their gilded promises,
And skin-teeth smiles,
Remember the sweat years of rehearsal, your family’s fidelity ,
And the Almighty who blessed and kept you,
Before you became a nation’s fixation,
And give thanks.

Suzanne Bhagan
Via e-mail