– in honor of Alex Zenardi
It turns in a second, or a fraction thereof,
Dimes are too big and unwieldy,
and I wonder who was watching out
for his safety that sun-blessed day,
surely no one on the track, in the sky,
or in the grandstand that I could see.
No one prevented the crush and crash
of racing cars hugging each other on the turns.
One driver, Alex, cheated death, barely.
He could have cursed God; he didn’t.
He could have given up; he didn’t.
The miracle here was his resolve
to go on with his life, while others
might have been tempted to end it all.
He is now competitive again, a paracyclist,
hand-cranking the wheels in search of the flag,
proving what is destroyed, must be rebuilt,
what is lost, must be found again,
no matter if your life seems to go around in circles.