Draft in the author’s style. This poem was written for Poet of Uplift to sit beside the author’s own readings, and is waiting for the author’s review. The commentary is a working draft too.
The finish line was glowing in the pink of early light,
And the crowd was gathering slowly, and the air was cool and bright.
I had run through months of shadow, through the aching and the pain,
Through the voices that said quit, and the days of cold, grey rain.
But now the sun was rising, and it painted every face,
With a gold of quiet triumph, and a glow of gentle grace.
My legs were shaking gently, and my breath was coming fast,
But my heart was full of sunrise, and the shadows were all past.
I crossed the line with laughter, and I threw my arms up wide,
And I heard the cheering thunder, and I felt it deep inside.
For every finish line is a sunrise, for the ones who would not stop,
And the light that fills the horizon is the joy of reaching the top.
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Commentary
The end of a hard race is also a beginning of light. This poem crosses the finish line at sunrise, and lets the dawn stand for the reward of effort.
“The finish line was glowing in the pink of early light,” and “the crowd was gathering slowly.” The runner has come “through months of shadow, through the aching and the pain, through the voices that said quit.” Now “the sun was rising, and it painted every face with a gold of quiet triumph.”
The runner’s “legs were shaking gently,” but “my heart was full of sunrise.” They “crossed the line with laughter” and “threw my arms up wide,” hearing “the cheering thunder.” The poem closes: “every finish line is a sunrise, for the ones who would not stop.”