Imagine a gymnasium, and we’re on a team together.
We’re competing in multiple events, a demanding and arduous affair —
Ball games, races, feats of strength,
And we’re losing
But not by much.
The day has lingered on, however,
And as you and our team return to the bench
You carry sweat like a monsoon with you
And sip your water bottles with particular resentment
As exhaustion drops your faces.
We are not losing by much. We can win. You know we can win.
You want to feel defeated. You want this moment. You want to feel the game was rigged.
You want to be absolved.
Group think occupies the bench, and I know when I’m preachy.
So I call your attention. I smile. I wave.
I summon a burst of might and lift a terrible weight
Higher than most could manage
Which wins us points.
Look at me. Watch me. You can do what I’m doing.
We are not actually losing by much.
Then your leg swings out like a rattle snake
And strikes the back of my knee
With the weight still precariously in my hands.
You tell me to stop that. Apparently, I want attention and demand control.
I do not drop the weight.
No one offers to ice my leg.
I would much prefer to be exhausted.
April 17th, 2019
The Favoring Wind 