Running

Running.

Down the track, don't look back,

Just Keep Running.

Across the finish line out of breath, muscles burning, feels like death.

Running.

Down the field, look up and see who is racing towards me.

Just Keep Running.

I am faster.

Goal straight ahead, but hesitation catches me dead.

Running.

Through mind, as I fall, I can't help but to think of it all.

All that running, running that I love.

Stand up.

Just Keep Running.

That I do, because I can.

Until I can't.

Not Running.

Not Jogging.

Not Walking.

Not Moving?

Why won't it bend?

Why won't can't I stand?

It's just a scratch, just a bump, just a bruise.

But not really, it's a tear. 

A deep pain down there. 

My knee incapable of doing anything.

Can't Keep Running.

But for once, just standing still, watching the rest of the world go by.

Seeing the  whimsical blue of the sky that I ran under.

And the bright green of the grass of which I trek. 

And understanding, really seeing, the world I thought I knew

from another, simpler perspective.

A perspective where I could see so many things I had missed before.

Still, I dream of running.

Still, I am just walking.

When I can run again, this time I'll appreciate the warmth of the sun and the song of the birds.

And Just Keep Running,

Running.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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