Sometimes I Run

Sometimes I run

not to get in shape

but to get away from all the shapes

in my life.

Sometimes I run

and I race my shadow

but I always let it win

because if I came face to face with my shadow

after all these years of chasing

I wouldn’t know what to say to it.

Sometimes I run

until time slows down

stops

goes backward.

And I don’t want to stop running

until time has gone back far enough

to where hugs enveloped you

and cares were lighter than a robin’s egg

and death

was just a rumor

vacationing in a far-off land.

Sometimes I run

to wrap myself in the cool green mist

and soak up as much of it as I can,

to store it for later.

Sometimes I run

until I feel the blood pound in my head

and my muscles scream

and my lungs burst

and it feels so good

to know for certain

that I am

painfully

wonderfully

beautifully

alive.