Diane Elayne Dees 

Loneliness Of the Short Distance Sledder

Three times a week, in pain or not, I kneel
on one knee, poised to push a weighted sled
a hundred fifty yards. I rise and thrust
the sled across the turf, my back a board,
my feet like springs. My eyes stay on the sled,
bright yellow skidding past the worn white lines.
My lines are also worn and blurred. It feels
I'm pushing years and decades as my heart
rate climbs; a broken heart pumps on and on,
though I can't feel the heat of my own blood.
I push past all the lies you told, the lies
I told myself, the nights I didn't sleep,
the joy you crushed. I feel the weight as I
push on, with leaden legs, to the last line.
I catch my breath, my heart slows down, and once
again, I realize that I'm alive.
I take the weights off, put the sled away.
My heart, I keep--I may need it some day.



Diane Elayne Dees’s poetry has been published in many journals and anthologies. Diane is a psychotherapist in Louisiana She also publishes the blog, Women Who Serve, which provides commentary on women’s professional tennis worldwide.