Soles pounding the pavement
Crowds pumping their fists
Drowned by the sound of her breath
Drowned by the sound of her thoughts:
They’re all behind me,
There’s no-one - and perhaps nothing - ahead.
But that’s the problem,
They’re all behind me:
These burdens -
On her heels, on her back, on her mind -
Eternally chasing
Pounding her soul.
And so she runs.
She must run.
Disguised, in the dark of dawn
is when she usually trains.
Far from comfort, the race-day sun
is cold and crushing.
The air is clear, her mind is not.
The pain in her body not clouding
the pain of the past.
Forgive me my debts, she mutters
Though no one hears -
they just cheer.
She’s certain of a win
Not certain if victory buys absolution.
She fears it won’t, but
as the only penance she knows
She runs.
And as she runs
He climbs.
He climbs not to the sound of cheers
but jeers. Yet
he hears only cries.
He hears her cry.
The weight of the wood not heavier than
the weight of the world.
Father forgive them, he mutters.
She crosses the line
At the cross, it is finished
Darkness invades daylight
In the dark once again
She rises.
Not knowing he climbed
She still runs.
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