He is not what he has, nor
is he what he lacks having,
a memory of teaching
her to throw and hit a ball.
He is not that expression
that now and then comes and goes
across his face, making known,
to one and all, his feeling.
He is not even the strength
of body he retains from
a life spent training to win
this or that cycling event.
No, he is not in the least
what he may seem to those who
struggle to manage his non
compliant will to resist
being told what to do, when
his whole life has prepared him
to fight for what’s left inside,
his own felt integrity.
Yes, day by day, even that
silently slips through the hour
glass, . . . yet in that, he hardly
differs from the rest of us.
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