I Want to Play

At eight years old
I admired my older brother
he could hit
catch
throw
run the bases
faster than anyone
on our block.

I wanted to play
I often ran
to the field
and waited
hoping that
my brother and his friends
would need me.

One Saturday morning my brother
ran home from the ball field
with the magic words
“We Need You”
I grabbed my cap
and ran
down the street
onto the grass next to the field.

In my thrill
I forgot
a thin string of barbed wire
at the entrance to the field
I collided with it
cutting my cheek from lip to ear

My brother ran to me
and saw blood
My only words were
I can play.

My pale brother
put his arm around me
We need to go home
I said to him
I can play.

He hugged me
and said
you’ll play with us
another day
I promise.

We got home
our mother not happy
when she saw me
I said
my fault
I was dumb.

One ER trip
stitches
and a Tetanus shot later
all I could think of was
I want to play.

Stitches healed
pain gone
later that summer
my brother
came running for me
“We Need You.”

This time
he walked me
onto the field
and smiled
as I
took my place
in right field
I could play.

In the Baseball Cathedral

I genuflect at the door of the stadium
and touch my forehead and shoulders.
"In the name of first base, second base, and third base. Amen.”
I bow toward the pitcher's mound.
"Our Father, who art in the outfield
Hallowed be thy arm.
Thy batting average rise
Thy opponents surprise
On the basepaths as well as at the plate."
I study the box score Scriptures
And say my prayers on the bench.
At the end of the game I prepare to depart.
The ump is my shepherd;
Even though I play
Through the bottom
of the ninth
I shall fear no fastball.

Marcia Marino started writing poems in grade school…and never stopped. She is a retired hospital chaplain, and enjoys spending time with family, friends, and her cockatiel who thinks she is an attack dog. She’s grateful for her Writers Group which is a source of many ideas and much laughter.