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The race runs over a mile—
twice around the school, then the lower field, then
along the deep green fringe of fir up on the hill—
and the tiny girl flies
out in front, now body-length, now car-length,
now bus-length ahead, ahead—oh
how her parents glow, oh
how everyone cheers, in awe
as her little legs go, go,
and there, too, is another girl, round
as a melon, and she, too,
pumps herself onward, she, too—
but body-length, bus-length, field-length behind,
she the last of all
the rest, and oh
how everyone cheers – Go, Angela, go! –
The boys and the girls, now past the finish line,
clap her on, and the parents, and the teachers,
Go, we shout, in awe
because she is so far away, alone
across the wide green length of grass,
and yet, and yet
her legs piston on.
~

~~~~
Copyright 2025 Jennifer L Freed. Originally published in Off the Coast.
Jennifer L Freed’s poetry has appeared in Atlanta Review, Writers Resist, Bellevue Literary Review, ONE ART, and other journals. Her collection When Light Shifts explores themes of identity, health, care-giving and parent-care in the aftermath of her mother’s cerebral hemorrhage.
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I was just reading this morning about the importance of “hopeful literature” and this certainly epitomizes that concept. This is a tender, compassionate poem which should be read by ages.
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Yes, tender and compassionate — and oddly heroic as well.
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I’m taken by the kindness and empathy that comes from the turn of this poem. I’m left thiinking and hoping something like this will find its way into our national conscience…
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Oh, yes. Please!
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This one teared me up, so perfectly do you capture the excitement, and then the wonder of this last, so laborious, win, this persisting—beautiful, Jennifer. I needed this! Thank you, and Michael.
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Thank you, Mary.
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Thank you, everyone, for your thoughts and comments. It was based on something that really happened (years ago). What I remember is how this child moved us all from an ordinary event to something more, the awe and wonder her little self inspired, how she transformed us all
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Thanks, Jennifer, for this wonderful poem.
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Such a deceptively seamless & simple poem punching such a beautifully moving punch — bravo, Jennifer! Yes, Sean, we’re there — and applauding!
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Brava, Angela! Brava!
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Immensely touching!Sent from my iPhone
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Reminds me of the famous instance when Spanish runner Iván Fernández guided Kenyan runner Abel Mutai across the finish line in a 2012 cross-country race after Mutai mistakenly stopped, believing he had already won. Fernández shouted for Mutai to keep going, and when Mutai didn’t understand, Fernández gently pushed him forward so he could cross first.
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An amazing example of the powers of empathy.
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Inspiring anecdote, Rose Mary. Sometimes we forget that there are more important things than winning.
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Hurray for empathy. Thanks for the amazing example.
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Thank you Rosemary. Thanks for reminding me of that event. The grace of it.
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This is our task after all, to cheer each other on wherever we are on the track. A reminder the inherent kindness in all beings. Lovely poem.
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Yes, our task is cheer each other on. Thanks for saying this, Moudi!
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Yes, a celebration of persistence.
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I suppose it could be titled “Life,” this beautiful, mysterious poem. It presents the race and its onlookers and their chorus. We are there aren’t we? Are we running or yelling or silently watching? We are all there.
Aren’t we.
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Yes, we are all there!
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Thanks, Lisa. I love this poem. It makes me happy.
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