Gary Speed
¶ 1
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Perhaps the footballing lion heart,
the athleticism, the Corinthian spirit
blinded us to the other dimensions;
his being, his experience, his reality
¶ 2
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For was he first not a player but a man
entitled to be flawed, to look inside,
acknowledge the uncertainty,
feel the burden and weep
¶ 3
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Did our admiration for those gifts
manifest as pressure in his mind
or was each match day a distraction
he savoured, a freedom to forget
¶ 4
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Maybe we defined him too narrowly,
an expectation that living would flow
with the same natural grace,
the effortless facility of his play
¶ 5
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Could we have carried the Saturday man
safely past Tuesday’s ordinariness;
hope flickers in the ashes of disbelief
that a restless spirit has been freed
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