Special Olympics

They stood in line, those nine pairs of feet
Of kids who knew not the rules of the games
They breathed the air of distant peace, but
Cherished the moments with their team

Unable to keep the balance of their mind
At applause of crowd, they waved with pride.
Standing behind a start line of hazy white
It mattered to them not, if they lose or win

The gun was fired, “Run” screamed the crowd
Their feet hesitated, distracted by loud sounds
Some walked merrily, haphazardly
Others started to sprint on that race track

One weak kid, a step he did miss, down he was
Somersaulting on his knees,
Bawling was loud, crying was gross
His pain was heard by eight pairs of feet

They slowed down, turned and looked around
Down on the ground was their friend, indeed!
All toddled back and stared at him, deaf
To the shrill of maddening crowd

A girl with Down’s Syndromes sat next to him
“Are you fine?” she asked, then hugged him tight
She helped him rise, and then walked with a smile
Shoulder-to-shoulder to the finish line

-Pushpa Moorjani