Pacing off the steps
At times the stretch
to the jumping board
and landing patch
lay magical
in front of me
and without real strain
I glided through the air
and a slit second
almost lasted for an eternity.
In that moment
the interaction of no competitor,
no coach,
no cheering onlooker
was with me
and the white
sand glided past
before kissing
my landing feet.
I paced off the steps
for the next long jump
and there were admiration
on some faces,
frustration and maybe hate
and fear of loosing
on others
and when I started my run
the crowd roared
before the air and me
was again one.
Sometimes my steps were out
and I overstepped the board,
or had to launch myself
from too far back
and no correction
in either direction
could bring
the absolute magic back
and the frenzy of the crowd
the sheer determination
of other competitors
was cutting like a knife through me
but when I closed my eyes
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poem by Gert Strydom
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