Success

 

Success

There is a siren

pumping in my ear.

It starts low enough

as a constant drone.

As time gathers force,

the droning drones so much

it pieces my ear drum.

I hear the drums coming.

They are pounding

into and through my feet

on the concrete.

I am heaving,

heaving,

my skin alert with goose pumps.

My heart has taken up

the pounding my legs 

have left.

It's time to stop.

I look up

as a Mack truck

hits me,

catapulting me in the air.

I had been running from 

(to?)

this point for a long time.

Now, I'm ready 

as I ever will be.

Afraid, unsure, but sure 

it's here.

Here I am, suspended.

I have a choice.

I could land, hard

on the pavement

fragmenting me and my structure.

Or

I could try

to land on my feet

somewhere on the meadow

adjacent to the concrete.

I choose the second.

I choose to move back

to green

to yellow

to vibrant colors

and the callings of the sparrow.

I even join them–

the sparrows–

and sing my heart out

replacing the pumping with a melody.

This is my success–

going back to the green–

although

I have yet to make a path

here.

Photo: need_to_fly

Text: Kristen Mastromarchi