The Marathon

I only signed up for a 5k.

At the starting line she told me it was 10 -

I wondered how I'd manage.

"Just go at your own pace: gently"

I heard myself think.

It became clear soon after that this was

A marathon.

People lined the path, cheering,

Encouraging us on in the strange dark light.

I had no shoes

But knew I couldn't go back for them.

I felt my feet on the solid ground -

They were soft and light.

People came and went:

I started with her,

He came for a short time,

Then there was you.

You showed me a different direction,

Away from the runners' path.

We climbed on ropes and pulleys;

I lifted myself ten feet in the air,

My soles and toes supporting me,

My hands doing what was needed.

I watched my body working

While I discovered and noticed.

It was a perpetual state of change and not knowing

And this never altered.

The Unbearable Gift

We pass unbearableness around like a football in a never-ending game;

Like the pair of socks no-one wanted for seven Christmases;

Like the filing tray full of things that no-one knows where to put.

Then the right words in the right moment and oh, God! My heavy bones are filled with it;

There is nowhere for it to be but here, now; in my chest;

Yet even while I gasp for air within its restriction, I see it is a gift,

And I hate the part of me which knows that;

Hate my expansive heart

For allowing me to feel this unbearable gift

Without self-pity;

For always bringing me back to

Love -
If I can receive it.