It's not just a sport

Written by: Rachel Peysakhova

It's more than that.
It's that piece of tinsel lingering 
at the back of your heart, 
hanging onto that rope of your 
hopes and dreams. 
For me, this is soccer.
When I play it I am taken back 
to a world of my own, free of 
school and the stress it causes.
It's my own little igloo chilling 
me to bones and filling the soil 
in me to grow out flowers. 
It is the connection to my 
grandfather, the hope of my 
future.
That poor little ball, being 
strangled by the mouths of the 
bullies,
kicking it around.
This ball belongs to someone, 
but it doesn't know to who.
Goes from goal to goal, one of 
it's own, one of what it's told. 
It's what I breathe, What I 
speak.
Wind running it's sneaky little 
fingers through my hair, 
and the fresh crisp grass 
scruffing dirt onto the source of 
my youth.
Kick Kick Kick. 
It's all up to you, me.
Free that ball and let it fly, It'll 
soar through the sky and fly 
into warm hands, or a net to 
finally catch it. 
It's not just a sport,
It's way more than that.
Soccer is the source of my 
scars, yet the healer of the 
other scars. 
It's the consumer of my mind, 
and heart. 
My happy place.