Marathon
Thump, thump, thump
My heart is going to tear from my chest
The heat of the sun clings to my skin
My nose in invaded by the stench of my sweat
Like legends past, the ground is soft and lush
With laced white fennels springing up and down
As the light of the sun
shines upon the ancient ruins
And the burial mounds of
the fallen dotting the plains
A blur of faceless voices buzz and babble as I approach
Through a daze of dust, I see the finishing line
As if wearing Hermes’s winged sandals
My feet throbbing as they pound against the tarmac road
I fly towards my glory, to the cheers of the crowd
I too want to be remembered through history
Like the ancient warriors who drove the Persians to the sea
And the swift messenger who arrived in Athens,
proclaiming ‘Our enemies are dead, victory, victory!’
