The Beat

3 minutes to eight.
I haven't met my goal.
My head is full of beats,
Thumping out this song,

“You're not good enough
You're not good enough.
You'll never be good enough,
You'll never be good enough.“

My legs finally falter,
My bag too heavy,
My coat is stifling me.

I am caught between failure and potential.

The beat continues.

“You’re not good enough
You're not good enough.
You were never good enough,
You were never good enough.“

I fall backwards to the ground
And lie there,
Still.
My coat no longer weighs me down.

I look up.

The Beat

A black crow flies overhead.
A large dry twig in its beak.
It falters in its flight,
Under its cumbersome load.
And the twig,

Falls.

He swoops
And I watch as he dives
To retrieve his lost load,
Beside where I lie.
And I see him
Relaunch
Into the air.

He is not beaten.
He has no drum in his head.
His wings beat to his
Own song.

The Beat

And so,
I sit myself slowly up.
Allow my bag
To settle in my hand.
I slide the headphones from my ears
And listen
To the beat of his wings overhead.
And I look
And I see the goals ahead,
With a new lightness in my heart,
And I get to my feet
And walk
My walk
In the direction
Of my life.