hexagons

Some call it “just kicking a ball”

but I call it

a part of my soul,

my heart.

A part of 

who I am.

On the field,

as I dive

for the save,

my eyes sparkle

black and white.

Pupils shaped like

hexagons, the blur of them

that I see

every time a beautiful shot

is taken on me.

I stand tall, firm,

in my goal,

on my line,

in my space.

Everything is mine

on my field,

my turf

that I call home.

Because it’s where

I’m often found,

I’m often happy,

I’m often saving 

shot after shot,

reaching out for

dive after dive,

jumping up for

high ball after high ball.

Where I make

mistake after mistake,

where I’ve learned and grown

for the last ten years.

It’s funny

how what once was “just kicking a ball”

became something

I can’t imagine myself without.

I don’t know who I'd be

without those black and white hexagons.