Nodar Kumaritashvili ~ Georgia
Yesterday, I was in Second Life hosting a Celtic gig at my pub when the corner of my eye caught sight of the news. The report was telling of a fatality which had occurred during a practice for the luge in the Winter Olympics being held in Vancouver. I quickly turned on the volume of my television to listen and advised everyone of the accident. I did not catch which country the man was from but noted there had already been a dozen accidents, but this was the first fatality. In fact, Nodar Kumaritshvili’s death marks the first fatality in the winter games since 1992 and the first fatality in the luge during the winter games since 1964. One of the patrons in the pub told me that the man was from Georgia. I just watched in wonder as the reporter completed his story.
I was already planning to watch the opening ceremonies as they are my favorite part (I will write about the reason for that later). The chatter with the reporters covering the games was whether or not the Georgian’s would remain for the games and if so, would they even participate in the ceremonies hours following the death of their teammate. I forced myself to stay up waiting and watching. It was mesmerizing watching the Georgian athletes walk into the arena and being greeted with a standing ovation. Each of the delegation wore a black armband and there was a single black ribbon attached to their flag. I sat wiping the tears from my eyes as I looked at each of the Georgian’s displayed on the screen. I re-watched that segment today as I had taped the ceremonies to watch in their entirety. Again I was struck by the entire situation and the words which had been brewing in my mind began to spill out. Here, I place the verse in memory of Mr. Kumaritshvili and to honor his family, friends and teammates.
Georgia
Stepping through the arch
Somber, still, brave
Your flag, it is draped
With a lone ebon tie
The thin veil of hope on your face
Does very little to hide the
Deep pain bleeding within
There were those who wondered
Would you stay? Or would you go?
Many, they did doubt
This festive walk you would take
When your journey began
Your number, it was nine
Then fate stepped in on
A wretched, deadly curve
Now, with one slipped away
He continues on,
a different journey he must take
You, now face the world
His name to make known
When you fly, when you glide
His memory will go with you
You were, after all,
One solid crew
Never destroyed, ever renewed
You are Georgian through and through.
February 13, 2010
© DL Bach
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