The Race Suit

The padding, the power, the speed.
The skin like fit conforming to your body
Guaranteed to be succeed

Put on your race suit, step into your skis
Notice how you are completely covered, engulfed in your freedom
Notice the surge of power, the blood rushing through your veins

Heart pounding, edges slicing through innocent snow
Three seconds is all it takes
Bending and twisting and turning 

Weaving yourself from frigid air and snow
The padding, the power, the speed
You are a bird, gravity cannot reach you

The world becomes a blur, pounding, pounding.
Your heart may burst. Flying over snow and
Soaring through the sky. You are free.

Eyes wander, breath pauses, heart stops
Three seconds is all it takes.
The thread catches, the needle falls to the ground, broken

The padding, the power, the speed.
Your edges catch as you bend around the gate
Your skis come off, you fly through the air, free and unattached

Falling, falling, thudding to the ground, wings broken, heart aching
Your muscular thighs protected by the spongy white padding, your loyal race suit
You rely on your thighs to curve unapologetically through snow

Your back and your shoulders are beaten by gravity, the cold hard ground
The hand stitched river of blue thread flowing alongside your spine
That overlooked, underappreciated padding holds no grudges, the loyal race suit

Hips twist, arms scraping the frozen ground, gravity holds no mercy
Your skis are back by the gate, your wings are wings broken,
Yet you are saved, somehow, by that loyal race suit

That poor old loyal race suit
No one notices it against the glow of the racer, the curves of the skis
No one needs it until it’s too late

Put on your race suit, step into your skis
Notice how you are completely covered, engulfed in your freedom
Notice the surge of power, the blood rushing through your veins

You are broken and bruised, beaten and battered.
Yet the sun sets and rises, and you hold the loyal fabric in your hands.
Do you feel it yet? The freedom of being woven from snow?