The Gaffer’s Land

You’ve found your place here, in between, at the edge.

Palpable reverence. The players, the crowds busy

re-arranging your plans set before, confident

on the calm surface of your judgement, exposed

every time, scrutinised, disassembled in the efforts

of the quick and constant, the random, clean chaos

played out on turf before you analysed, agreed

sometimes disagreed in the boxed seats behind you.

If fate called your name, you found your place

in this white bordered zone, this no man’s land.

Something was set right in the unraveled plans

of he who went before, and the spotlight turned.

I’ve stood in your place, at the edge, in between

kicked every ball in an empty dream. Full of belief

I’ve inhaled the same air but there for sure, parched

an unbending truth exposed me. I was an imposter.

I nodded to the four corners, squared off and holy

smiled softly and returned up the tunnel grateful

away from the Gaffer’s Land your place set true

in the hearts of minds of us, your fellow travellers.