I won a gold medal in London
though I competed in no race.
I was simply having fun
eating curry in a crowded place.

I asked a family of three
if I could sit at their table.
They gladly made room for me
and so I ate when I was able.

But they, from Iran, were eager and willing
to talk to me of war,
of if our people saw them as chilling;
if we longed to even the score.

I spoke of what I’d heard from a hostage
kept at the embassy.
Of how he expressed no rage,
and spoke of their nation’s beauty;

Of the love of the people
of their warmth and kindness;
of how their government was evil
but their land was blessed.

And we laughed and talked about Texas
and the land spreading out so wide
for the Iranian daughter to visit
and saddle her yearning to ride.

I told them “Come to Wyoming!
Or Utah! Or Idaho!”
“There’s so much more to knowing
and so much more to show!”

We laughed and discussed heritage
and the way all people could be:
not filled with political rage,
but eating at the table of harmony.

So at a picnic table
on the banks of the dirty Thames
I won a gold medal for being able
to put away hate and become friends.

Will I give it up?
I do not care.
For with new friends to sup
is love I’ll gladly share.