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Thursday, May 17, 2012

The Day My Coach Gave It Away

The room keeps spinning
And I'm stuck in a whirlwind.
I feel a fire burning inside me
And it's not of passion...
It's of anger.
Anger towards that one person who destroyed
My dream.
My swim coach.
I snarl at the thought of his name.

For years, I worked hard to be a swim captain.
Seven years in fact.
I thought I was a shoe in for the spot.
I guess that shoe fit the wrong

I persevered, held a positive attitude, and
Gave it all
I got.
As a senior, I was shocked my coach believed
A person less motivated,
Less willing,
Is worthy of the spot as team captain.

I feel as though most people won't understand
The pain I feel.
The let down.
But I really wanted this...

I've cried and cried
As much as a waterfall.
The tears wash over me,
Like the water rushing over my face,
Every time I jump in that pool
To swim.

Perhaps when you believe you
Deserve so much and lose it,
All you can do is cry.

1 comment:

  1. This is an interesting one to comment on. It's obvious that you care deeply about this and so I'm glad you're taking up the topic.

    On the other hand, your language is so plain and so Duhamel-esque that I'm not sure how to critique it as poetry.

    I wonder if you can use the language of swimming, and of motivation to make us feel the scene of the pool. Also, think about suggesting to us what these people are actually like, as Woolf demands, instead of just what has happened to them.

    Also, is this a poem in which you can discuss perspective? Obviously, this isn't the worst thing that's ever happened to someone, and yet we experience our individual pains so deeply. So how can a person 1) know that her pain isn't large on a world-scale and yet 2) feel so bad at the same time.

    That would seem to bring a thoughtful touch to this already visceral poem.