Fluorescence in Flight

On that

first

cautiously moving day

with avoidant eyes

dodging weary sighs,

there I was—

orientation.

Skipping ahead

while skipping steps,

I dipped my steel-covered toes.

Wobbly,

unknowingly,

into freshman ghosts.

Under fluorescent anguish

and not-so-private smite

my mind—

my body too—

remained in constant flight.

A thousand clock ins,

five hundred pennies doled out

I didn’t yet have words

for what I needed

desperately

to shout.

And so,

my daily joys, squandered—

frigid nights

frantic mornings

in sophomore solemn.

Environmentally absorbent

while personally repellent.

Constructive criticism around every corner—

praise disguised as guidance,

landing amiss.

Transitional—

forward, backward, sideways.

Lifting loads far beyond my reach.

Once a junior

jaded, in jeopardy.

Now,

I smile.

Remembering

I’m no longer just

surviving.

In fluorescent awe

and public pride

there, I knew—

I’d finally reached

my senior stride.

Skipping ahead,

finding each next right step,

I cross

that once-harrowing stage,

eager

to decide what comes next.