Tuesday, February 22, 2022

The Run

 22 02 2022

The Run

Earnestly, he rubs the canvas

With a damp cloth,

reveals the white of his

old trainers.

Deliberately, one by one, unravels

 the blue laces,

dreamily watches a fly

 crawl among crumbs

 on grey tiles,

 oh, little fly,

you have no idea how lucky you are.

Out on the downs, on the coastal path,

he runs,

he runs, … slowly, …at first,

until, inside his head

an explosion, a war, of words

fly back and forth.

Keeping time he picks up pace

 Quickening,  the  louder they get,

Faster, …Faster, …Faster, …

Then…

his breath, his breath,…gives out...

He stops…        He falls…

He falls with …         A thud

Into the mud…

He curls…    Head down…

Face down…     Down in the dirt…

He sobs…

He sobs…

Down in the dirt, he sobs…

5 comments :

  1. There is so much sadness in this world.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Your poem captures that inner turmoil we rarely see or understand.

    ReplyDelete
  3. An intuitive glimpse into the perils of pursuing one's self. Well done!

    ReplyDelete

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