When They Say You Cannot Play the Game

by Hannah Smith, on determination

become the playmaker,

the buzzer beater, the drive

towards the basket. If they set

the goal out of reach, find faith

in breath. Trust the air

beneath the skyline, the wind

along the riverbank. Devote yourself

to inhaling the divine. Stretch for a dream

as big as Dallas—become a river

transformed into a fresh force.

When faced with loss, let the city’s song

sweep you up on its path

towards progress. Lead the chorus

of the crowd’s thunder. Shatter the ceiling

of stadium lights. If you meet the mascot

atop the tallest building, rise with it

above Victory Plaza. Fly beyond

the Trinity, the stormcloud, the cityscape,

and all of us, our breath

held in, a host of eyes peeled upwards—

to your reverie, to the Pegasus,

a maverick with wings.