HALFWAY

Photo by Frankhie Muthumbi

I’m getting used to the bloodied hands,
Used to the mess they make,
If it means I get to keep clapping,
For you until it is my time,

I’m getting used to the empty stadia,
The empty halls and gymnasia,
If it means I get to be in the stands,
When you look for someone in your colours,

I’m getting used to standing in the crowd,
Chest up and chin to the sky,
If it means a familiar face,
When you look at mine,

I’m getting used to holding my arms out,
Though the rain and cold rattle them,
If it means giving you an embrace,
When you celebrate

I’m used to being the shoulders you stand on,
When you are looking for giants to face,
So don’t you dare think of meeting me halfway,
Because your light never burns with half a flame,

~Frankhie