Run Baby Run/

If you could see me at this moment..if you could hold me close..if moments of memory washed away the despair..if bloody hands were to stroke me..if I smiled past the wet of my eyelashes..if I drew clumsy, lost, hungry, but no longer afraid..if I forced myself up..then set my chin down on your shoulder..slipping out of my sneakers..the earth soft as clay..myself, tattered and torn..faint with thirst..famished with hunger..would you lie down with me next to the river..uttering another life..would you pull back, gaze up..brushing the hair from my face..is it then, that you would think that you knew the feel of my feet, the sweat of my sneaker, the purest unbridled essence of me?

Every voice I hear has it's own palette of color as I embrace life and resolution babbles from my soul. Running as if I am leaping for the moon, spring is theatrical as it throws back forty-degree temperatures in absence of yesterday's tease of summer. My teeth, a bit more clenched today, my fingers, a bit more drawn into the sleeves of my shirt, as warm blood surges through my body. The goose bumps on my legs enough of a sacrifice to the gods.