When the sun rises, the shadows come out. They stretch
over the dewed grass and up the brick walls. They hide
from the light that only makes them stronger.
Without light, there would be no shadows.
We think we can destroy them, using our
light. But really, they’re always there,
scattered, stretched, faded, on the
turf of the football field. My
shadow is no different. It
lurks behind me when
I walk to the bus stop.
It stretches over the
uneven sidewalk and
into the tar-spotted street.
Even at school, where the light
shines from the ceiling. It sits quietly
under my desk. Or when I perform, and the light
shine in front of me, it will dance with me, a secret duet.