Rhi Reynolds

A year ago, I walked across the gym floor with eyes down,

And wouldn’t look up until I reached the corner that held a steel bar.

Not just any bar; a bar that promised me dreams,

But only if I was able to tame it.

The bar was a lion; baring its teeth upon every approach,

Intimidating me with its cold demeanor.

I was in the lion’s jungle; territory uncharted,

Dripping with fear and hesitation.

And I fell…again and again,

With the lion clawing and biting every time I stumbled.

Yet every time I fell, I got back up,

And faced the lion again.

Bloody shins, ripped hands, and bruised pride,

Could not stop me from my dreams.

The lion: undoubtedly ferocious and formidable,

Had a weakness for persistence.

Daily I attacked with determination and tenacity,

And watched the lion grow weary.

Success came soon after: I conquered the lion,

And it surrendered my dreams as promised.

Now I walk across the jungle with eyes up,

Carrying an indomitable will.

Yet one year later…I realized….

The lion was me.