When every game is about to commence,
I look at my cleverly strung up mesh.
Standing in my crease I scan my sector,
looking for that hint and gesture;
that tells me he the attacker will do anything in his power, body, and soul;
just to get a goal.
I see the abundance of urgency in his warrior eyes,
waiting for me to destroy his pride.
Quick like a boxer, I’m on my feet,
I feel my heart start to weep;
as I squall out the call the other team seeks.
I lunge my body and slide my feet,
as I feel everyone’s heartbeat,
like a wall, I’m concrete.
As the shot bears upon my skin,
I think to myself how bad I want to win.
Holding back a deathly howl,
I, myself knows the foul.
To be hit with with a torturing rock,
would hurt less than an un-blocked shot.
Clear is the call my team resembles,
I feel the other team start to tremble.
As I run out of my crease nimble;
I throw my arms up, tall and stature,
waiting for the ball to get to my attacker.
High and mighty I prance back to my circle of chalk,
where no one dares to walk.
My heaven-sent, holy ground,
which be protected by the proud.
Reminiscing the thought in time;
when nobody believed in me.
I am a general,
I am a show-stopper,
I am a wall;
I am goalie.