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Location: Wishing I was riding | Hey, a few months ago I did a poem for my English class, and I just thought that I should share it with everyone. I'm pretty proud of this poem, as it turned out awesome and because it is my first stab at poetry. This is my point of view after a very serious brain injury almost ended my life, while this exact race didn't happen, I didn't qualify for state, this is what it felt like my first race after my concussion. Enjoy!
The Race
I think back to that terrible accident, doing this dangerous sport
The fogginess, the inability to think, the headaches that came
After that terrible run around the cloverleaf pattern
It was simply a misstep, but it tore my world apart
I think back to then, and what I am about to do now
I pray to God I make it through this run safe
The arena dust chokes, and fear has a death grip on me
My breathing becomes shallow, my heart rate picks up
The crowd’s cheering fills my ears, breaking my concentration
My beautiful black mare Zoey is already glistening with sweat,
I feel her prancing under me, she is begging to go
This is it, my chance for the state title, for the national title
I shake the thoughts of qualifying for nationals out of my head
I give Zoey her head and she takes off down the alley,
from zero to thirty in three seconds, past the chutes, into the arena
I seem to be flying, atop my amazing steed, my stomach still in the alley
The wind rips my hat off my head, ruffling my long blonde hair
I distantly hear the crowd cheering us on
I feel Zoey’s endless energy at the tips of my fingers,
as I slow her down ever so slightly to take the first barrel,
she whips around it effortlessly, as if she was born to do this, which she was
Every inch of her is tuned to me, waiting for my signal,
I urge her to go as we come around the back end of the barrel and she flies
Second Impact Syndrome, those three little words ring in my head,
That’s what will happen if I have another impact,
Which is easy in this fast-paced, dangerous sport
my head hitting the ground, my brain slamming against my skull,
the bruising and bleeding, all internal, all invisible to everyone but me
the fogginess, the memory problems, my struggle, all because of a simple fall
As we are coming to the second barrel, I pull her back, but she resists
We take the second barrel, the sharpest barrel, too fast for safety,
and before I comprehend what’s happening, she’s slipping,
I feel her left hind hoof fly out from beneath her,
I brace her against my hands, holding her up, and she rights herself
I urge her on, determined to get the winning time
We gallop to the third barrel, the crowd cheering us on
this time she listens to me, slowing down to make the sharp corner,
she rounds the barrel fast enough to make my head spin,
and I feel the power of an amazing barrel horse under me
One thousand pounds of pure horse flesh sprinting to the finish line
This is what true freedom feels like, I think as we are flying home
I hear the announcer saying I shattered the arena record by full tenth of a second,
I have surely qualified for the National Finals
more importantly though, I made through safe and sound
my fears have dissolved, and I remember why I do this sport
This is what I live for, the pure rush of racing around the cloverleaf pattern,
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