776 B.C. to 393 A.D.
The sprint, the one event, the only race
Was solemn, sacred, holy. Gods leaned down
And over clouds to watch a handsome face
Push forward to deserve the victor’s crown.
No one, except those gods perhaps, could know
Just how momentous was this triumph, for
It led to games whose legacy would flow
Past Jesus till his church could win its war
Against such godlike excellence. Divine
Opposed divine and then the martyr God
Defeated human winners. Asinine
Ecclesiastics solemnly outlawed
Olympic glory. Crosiers replaced
The javelins and heroes were disgraced.
Every Fourth Year
Twelve hundred years . . . Olympic beauty held
The Greeks in thrall. Its god-appointed time
Demanded at its end hot strengths that swelled
To greatness. Losing there was like a crime,
A crime of shamefulness, but winning there
Was holiness of pride. Competing nude,
The men scraped off the sweat from armpit hair
And struggle with a strigil. Far from crude
Their hairiness in darkened patches on
Their bodies showed that they were meant to win.
These sacred meetings were the perfect dawn
Of sport They taught how victories must begin.
..The Christians burnt them down in hallowed flames
….And now they’re only Coca-Cola’s games.
by phillipw | Apr 4, 2020 | AN, CH, OL, PA |