She’s Still My Queen
My queen graces the track like equine beauty with sheer athleticism. Her powerful physique sanctions her arrival among the constant screams
Coveted inspiration for a people, a gender and a stereotyped community. As her body syncs with her mind, she holds her head proud and regal like royalty.
The cheers and sounds fall far from her ears as her focus silences any distraction. Her vision captures the start and the glorified finish with absolute perfection.
She hears no sounds in the muted chaos as her mind leads her thoughts. Parallel lanes are of no importance, as are the others who take their own paths.
The starter’s gun is what she listens for, the only thing that can reach her silence. A confident queen steps on to the track with nothing but talent and experience.
Fixed in a racer’s pose she stretches her reach with calculated efficiency. With her body awaiting the signal that will embrace a “pryceless” journey.
The loud explosion takes form as her body and mind respond in quickened pace. Taking command of a track that nurtures a determination to complete an easy race.
A passionate heart pushes blood loaded with oxygen through receptive veins. As she takes control of a track she’s always owned, sectioned into many lanes.
Her journey is complete with powerful strides as the cheers signal her triumph. Though a flat track kisses her feet she still counts the many hurdles yet to jump.
She silences the unbelievers and their voices fade away into obscurity. As she epitomizes the heart of her people, their hope, yes, she’s is still my queen.
By Oakley PurpleHeart Lyle