A Poem by Maik Strosahl
The air up here stokes the flame,
starving lungs burn hungry,
blood pounding fierce through the heart,
down to legs running in place,
cranking through the machine
and back again,
crying for still more.
carved into the mountain.
a rainbow racing to steal away my yellow.
Though I cannot see it yet,
the crowds grow larger
as we zoom around the curve,
signaling the approach of today’s goal,
and if I push just a little bit harder,
I will break from this pack,
I will raise my fists triumphant
to the roar rising from the people
over the whirring of wheels in spin,
rubber straining its grip
as we race across asphalt and cement
to the finish.