Stands

I will watch this football game without anxiety,
clenched fists and teeth.

I will see the whole field, take in the entire place,
no squinting for his number or legs underneath.

I can hear the wind blowing,
remarks from the fans.

He is injured, sidelined, safer than he'd been.
Casted, put together barely managing not to beg to be let in.

Understanding all this as I see my son,
this man among boys.

Certain a sadness has settled in his growing frame, across his chest
that keeps him from catching, gripping and throwing with the rest.

His right hand is casted, a twisted prize from his play.

High school games are ended as quick and tough as they began.

I will watch this Saturday football game with no curses caught in my chest.

I can see without worry catching my every breath.