The Prize

I wrote this one back in 2009 when I was still working. I had been lured to a very demanding post with the promise that it would lead to promotion,  but in the event that didn't happen. It seems a lifetime ago now.  I've resurrected it today to submit it for a challenge to write something about a competition.  


It's funny
How the finishing line I had in my sights
For so long it became part of who I was, 
Was at the last minute not even there - 
Broken by another competitor's chest
As she streaked ahead in the last few yards
And I stopped in my tracks - stunned - 
Without a direction to focus on. 

The second prize seemed insufficient
To chase away the sense of failure, disbelief, and gullibility. 
How could I have endured such pain, 
Such unrelenting pressure, to perform so long at my best
Only to have the prize given to another?

Now,  with the benefit of hindsight
I see I had been running blindfold
Without knowing if I was heading in the right direction, 
Or whether I was trusting others to shout instructions, 
Goading me on to reach the prize. 

What's really funny
Is finding myself walking a different path
Where my feet know where to tread
And I can choose my own direction. 
My spirit expands now the pressure has been lifted. 
I have time to look around,  and smile. 


© Copyright 2021. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved



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