Amani Watts
Close to the Sun, Close to the Edge
Stadium breath tightens around me,
a wall of noise,
every nerve sparking like a live wire.
My lungs tear, my arms pump,
and something inside me leaps forward
as if dying and winning
were the same motion.
My body expresses its pain
I flew too close to the sun
but my brain can’t translate it.
I’m too far inside the burn
to hear the warning.
Legs quake.
The ground spits me back up.
My heart kicks
like a door trying to break free,
and I don’t slow down.
I refuse.
I refuse.
I refuse.
Let something inside me break
but not before I cross the line
that proves I didn’t fold
when it mattered.
Stadium breath tightens around me,
a wall of noise,
every nerve sparking like a live wire.
My lungs tear, my arms pump,
and something inside me leaps forward
as if dying and winning
were the same motion.
My body expresses its pain
I flew too close to the sun
but my brain can’t translate it.
I’m too far inside the burn
to hear the warning.
Legs quake.
The ground spits me back up.
My heart kicks
like a door trying to break free,
and I don’t slow down.
I refuse.
I refuse.
I refuse.
Let something inside me break
but not before I cross the line
that proves I didn’t fold
when it mattered.