You’ve found your place here, in between, at the edge.
Palpable reverence. The players, the crowds busy
re-arranging your plans set before, confident
on the calm surface of your judgement, exposed
every time, scrutinised, dis-assembled in the efforts
of the quick and constant, the random, clean chaos
played out on turf before you – analysed, agreed
sometimes disagreed in the boxed seats behind you.
If fate called your name, you found your place
in this white bordered zone, this no man’s land.
Something was set right in the unraveled plans
of he who went before, and the spotlight turned.
I’ve stood in your place, at the edge, in between
kicked every ball in an empty dream. Full of belief
I’ve inhaled the same air but there for sure, parched
an unbending truth exposed me. I was an imposter.
I nodded to the four corners, squared off and holy
smiled softly and returned up the tunnel grateful
away from the Gaffer’s Land – your place set true
in the hearts of minds of us, your fellow travellers.