Broken Memory

I remember my broken femur.

I remember the adrenaline, thrills, excitement.

I remember fence lines with fans, racers beside me.

I remember mixed gasoline and barbecue.

I remember dust, sweat, mud.

I remember landing, screaming, my voice.

I remember laughs, engines, sirens.

I remember fear, dread, pain.

Silence.

I remember a ride, jolts, stops.

I remember commotion, swiftness, lights.

Doctors.

I remember riding, the dread of failing.

I remember debating life, the struggle to move.

I remember control, the power within.

I remember my bike, passion, love.

I remember healing.