It is a beautiful day.
Wind rusing by me,
each hurdle easier to overtake.
My legs no longer need the ground.
Earth is a hindrance, and
I want to fly.
Later,
looking down on the field,
I remember the gun.
The sound gave me power.
My body sprang into action,
but now I can't move.
I hear the sound,
releasing someone else from their stance,
but I'm fixed. Alone?
Powerless.
Why can't I run?
White encircles me,
familiar colors
but a different design:
shape of a dragon.
I have no right to be here.
I look up at the sun
trying to remember
it is a beautiful day.
Words spit at me are replaced
by quiet,
and the sound of the gun.
Now
I know why I didn't run.
It was easier to lie still.
Pretend it wasn't happening.
Find power in stillness.
Survive.
After the blood,
the fists,
and the fun,
it was a beautiful day.
I won.
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