Matthew R. Callies

When the Track Opens to Every Name

In stadium light, every lane becomes a story

Flags fold into motion, feet striking the track

Voices rise in a thousand practiced rhythms

We arrive carrying nothing but our names

 

Flags fold into motion, feet striking the track

The crowd answers with color and open air

We arrive carrying nothing but our names

Bodies find their measure in shared distances

 

The crowd answers with color and open air

The starting gun breaks into possibility

Bodies find their measure in shared distances

Even the finish line forgets to separate us

 

The starting gun breaks into possibility

Voices rise in a thousand practiced rhythms

Even the finish line forgets to separate us

In stadium light, every lane becomes a story