Remembering What It’s Like to Be Alive
Memories of crashing down on the black gravel come back to me. And the blood gushing from my hands, shins, and left side of my torso..I smell the iron faintly in the thresholds of my memory.
My helmet was smashed into pieces and I remember thinking, if this was the end. I remember picking myself up, falling down again and feeling so desperately hopeless. The longing for someone to come and soothe my tears, or clean the stinging salt off was so powerful I’m moved to silent sobs just revisiting the past.
I remember whispering to the gods, stars, that all I wanted was to see my family one more time, to taste the exhilaration of the stage one more time. The regrets poured and sliced my thin soul. I keep returning to the scene of the accident, hoping to find the pieces of my heart I left there. But they have become part of the gravel, undetectable, trampled on, black and forgotten.
Everytime I think I’ve finished rebuilding it, something comes along and reminds me that I’m so easily destructible, so fragile, so..so lost in this sea of opportunity and competitive dominion.
When will I learn that loving me is the most important task in the life? The Boulder fires rages afar but the orange glows are oddly comforting.
The smoke fills my lungs and I inhale deeply. If this is the song of life, then this ash burdened wind must be the scent of death.
