Not sure exactly when I wrote this but it was at some point after the first ever Phoenix home game in/around September or October 2003. This is one of my few obviously-about-hockey poems.
Let me be a mere face in a crowd.
Tonight I am contented to be not myself
But Seat 4, Row X, Block 103:
A single feather on your back.
Born from ruin and sadness
By the diligent hands of your Faithful,
You stand before us at last,
A mirage in the heat of the blazing lights -
But then the lights go down, the music cries out,
Melodious like bird song, undeniable.
You're branding the ice with blades of fire,
Burning it up in your strength.
I am here amongst the rest,
Captivated and in celebration.
You are the Phoenix, raised from the ashes
And I am caught up in your flames.
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