1972

 

We were young once, and invincible,

Breasting the waves like yearling gods,

Beating a soul-felt rhythm on the skin

Of plume and eddy, dancing our wild way

Through the forest of gates and onward into glory:

Silver and gold, and simply being there.

 

Fifty years went by like heartbeats,

And here we sit, men and women no longer young,

Hearing the band and telling the old stories,

Greeting as brothers the rivals of our youth.

 

It was Germany West and East back then,

With iron between, cutting the tie of blood;

And somewhere in the games there was violence, awful,

Covered in the silence of bureaucracy and death.

 

What could we do? We raced as best we could.

We lost and won, made memories and friends.

We knew the world would spin on, no matter the outcome,

But still we strove as if all hung on us.

 

And what did it mean? It had its own meaning -

Something no word, song, medal could express -

Something that could be spoken only by the paddle 

As it pulled the fierce water, pulled eternally,

And ceased.