The Beast Poem by Rachel Beal

The beam.
Its slick with sweat
& blood & fear.
How could I
Stand
On such a thing,
So wobbly and unsecure.
It twists & bends
And throws me to the ground.
Why bother to try
And risk
A fall?
Why worry about a
Thing,
Four feet high
And 4 inches wide
Why even bother?
Why even try?
Why should I stand, when all I do is fall?
But I am a
Gymnast,
Proud and strong.
So I try again,
And again I fall.
But I stand,
And stare down the beast,
With its bent spine
And curled claws,
I stand again,
And this time
I do not fall.