Friday, April 6, 2012

The Goalkeeper: Part Four

What is his worth, this young fellow
Who stands behind the others and protests?
His hair is wild like that of a madman,
His knees muddy like a child’s,
And yet he can be eloquent,
His head raised prouder than any other.

What brought him into being, this walking paradox
Of unrestrained emotion and controlled action?
They laugh at his seriousness,
They sober at his humour,
And yet without him they lack all direction
And, more so than otherwise, fail to function.

Should he be measured by his strengths,
Or is it fair to hold him by the weakness of the others?
He is neither ornament nor decoration
(in that he serves useful purpose)
And yet is as fragile, needing extra breath and seconds for some simple tasks,
Until suddenly illuminating games with sublime motions.

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