(no subject)
My run today was a godsend.
Some days are as certain as the weather. Lately I haven't been able to press the tears down when sadness coils around my throat like wire on a rod, tightening and hissing. There it dries, all cracked and hard. The hardest sadness you have ever seen. Purple clouds bloomed, and it wasn't until I got into my car that I felt something disperse in my throat as oil on water. Then raindrops fell out of the sky and collided with my windshield. I cried for their brief lives, hoping puddles would gather, inches deep, so that they might have a softer place to land. And so that I might float like a buoy.
Maybe I was running towards hope. I felt the hard chunks in my throat slide down my body and shoot from my toes, landing just so that I could stomp them into the ground. I felt the air in front swing open and settle around my skin, as soft and exact as my mother's scent - of milled soap and clean laundry. I skimmed over pain, pushed it through my pores until my clothes were drenched and heavy, but inside I felt a softer sadness shine like morning so early - it crackles.
When the rain came again, in sharp angular pricks against my skin that reminded me of life as if it were tapping on the door to my heart saying: "Let me in. Let. me. in."
Anger released from my skin like heat rising off of concrete on a southern summer day. Where I had been reaching, cupping and holding I was now spreading my fingers as wide as each layer of a fan.
I thank each run for the pain it absorbs. I thank it for the time it gives, letting me step on its conveyor belt. I thank it for its company, its silence and the challenge it presents. It unknots my mind. It twists and turns. I thank it for the places it has taken me. The tears, the smiles, the thoughts and the expectations it has given me - everytime saying: "Suck it up."
Some days are as certain as the weather. Lately I haven't been able to press the tears down when sadness coils around my throat like wire on a rod, tightening and hissing. There it dries, all cracked and hard. The hardest sadness you have ever seen. Purple clouds bloomed, and it wasn't until I got into my car that I felt something disperse in my throat as oil on water. Then raindrops fell out of the sky and collided with my windshield. I cried for their brief lives, hoping puddles would gather, inches deep, so that they might have a softer place to land. And so that I might float like a buoy.
Maybe I was running towards hope. I felt the hard chunks in my throat slide down my body and shoot from my toes, landing just so that I could stomp them into the ground. I felt the air in front swing open and settle around my skin, as soft and exact as my mother's scent - of milled soap and clean laundry. I skimmed over pain, pushed it through my pores until my clothes were drenched and heavy, but inside I felt a softer sadness shine like morning so early - it crackles.
When the rain came again, in sharp angular pricks against my skin that reminded me of life as if it were tapping on the door to my heart saying: "Let me in. Let. me. in."
Anger released from my skin like heat rising off of concrete on a southern summer day. Where I had been reaching, cupping and holding I was now spreading my fingers as wide as each layer of a fan.
I thank each run for the pain it absorbs. I thank it for the time it gives, letting me step on its conveyor belt. I thank it for its company, its silence and the challenge it presents. It unknots my mind. It twists and turns. I thank it for the places it has taken me. The tears, the smiles, the thoughts and the expectations it has given me - everytime saying: "Suck it up."