Commitment

Every morning there is a choice.

Get up,

or

get rest.

Give up,

or

fight.

Let the trill continue to ring,

lay awake listening and ignoring the chill of the fan.

Miss rehearsal

just

this

once?

No,

I couldn’t.

I wouldn’t.

I made the commitment four years ago

and every year after,

to wake up before the birds and the sun;

to work until my calves catch fire;

to practice until my fingers can’t move;

to be apart of something bigger than myself.

I couldn’t let my friends,

my directors,

or myself down because I

wanted

a little more sleep.

Others come first,

then myself.

That’s the way it’s always been.

That’s the way it always will be.

This poem is about: 
Me

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