Monday, April 25, 2011

30 Days: Poetry by Brooke Wilson

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
what would I say to it?

Sometimes I run
until time slows down
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 fresh life as I can,
to store 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

It Began with Ivy
It began with the ivy
curling up the side of a church
in a small abandoned parking lot.

It began with the rain
landing softly on the two faces,
cleansing the ivy.

It began with two hands.
Ten interlocked fingers
growing together gently.

It began with the dance,
more beautiful than music,
quieter than the rain.

It began with hope.
Braided fingers twirling in slow circles,
fresh water kissing their faces.

It began with whispers
from an inclination, feeling, need,

Eventually, the entwined fingers
and cooled wet faces
danced on from the parking lot.

But the church,
and the ivy,
and the hope
Are there yet.


Julie Daines said...

Good choices. I LOVE these. They are so beautiful and evocative. Perfect.

Geneal Wilson said...

Love these!! Excellent!!

Scott said...

Nice to see another poet here. And a very good one at that!

Michelle said...

I really love the running one.

Taffy said...

Nice! Sometimes I run to get away too then I feel better and go home :)