I am Running.
it is my whole being.
my entire counciousness is absorbed in running
in the rythms of the motion
the slap of my soles on the street
the in of the cold air, the out of a cloud
my ponytail bouncing on my bare back
the threat of a stich in my side
left and right arms pumping foward and back.
I see the finish line.
I made it!
The rythms accelerate.
Now I am desire
I see my sister,
am grateful she came so far,
and run faster. Her joyful shout spurs me on
to the line.
I am steps away-
just a few long strides-
when the earth beneath my foot shudders
and the sound of my panting is swallowed by
as a column of ash-colored smoke rises
and everyone begins running.
I have never seen spectators run before.
I have passed the finish line without slowing or noticing.
For filling my whole being was the need to run away.
Where is she?
I have called
and she did not respond.
How is she?
I could never
if she is hurt.
she isn't worrying about me.