My legs will take me through;
never mind shrubs and jagged pavement,
my legs will take me through.

Precipitation looms – my heart striking
like a pellet in a pinball machine – and
it pours. Sprouting from the sky, my
little termites splash into the soil.

My legs will take me through.

I can and I have and I will,
my pulse insists; living puddles
splatter beneath my feet, my
insuppressible stride.

Inadequacy spoke and I replied:

*My legs will take me through.