On Running

As a runner, you learn how to 
feel the pain; 
in each solitary moment of a step, to 
feel every inch of your body; 
you simply exist in the moment.

Your soul becomes physical, 
each ache and pain, 
burning muscles, 
lungs taking in the life of 
the wildflowers, 
red sandstone, peaks in the distance speaking
I am alive,  
the breeze carrying droplets of 
crystal water off the mountain, 
and your body 
becomes one with the Living again.

You learn to feel the pain, 
and hold it there, 
pause and exist with it, 
then push through it, 
until I am free
and your mind is no more, 
you simply Are. 

We awoke, battered and beaten, 
thin, [un]human versions of our old selves, 
How do you survive the impossible? 
and saw a potential world, the 
self-destruction of "Us" 
as a means of forgetting the impossible. 
But, the battle to be fought was simply, 
that first step 
away from destruction, and 
towards Life.

So, we ran; 
health became our addiction, 
a means of fighting back 
            (against the impossible).
But, often I still run to 
feel the pain, of 
Ben's gone, and why he is 
never coming back. 
And, quite possibly, yearning to 
feel the pain, is my screaming 
I love you, but I'm angry, 
and these can co-exist in my heart, 
through there are no words for 
what they unite to become.

And, running, 
hard and fast, and seeing 
the red dust fly beneath my feet, feeling 
my lungs burn, 
is simply a way for me ("Us") 
to turn the physical limitations of 
understanding into, 
something more Real and Alive, 
and in the end, 
as we look out over the city, 
we place our hands on our knees, gasping, 
but together, 
and the anger, and pain, and disbelief, 
simply becomes nothing but the 
red sandstone, peaks in the distance,  
breeze carrying droplets of crystal water off the mountain. 

This is the impossible.