the pencil runs

posts on running

running on barker road

tumbling, procrastinating, and wanting to run
away and feel my heart inside me
like a beating drum with a life of its own,
apart, beyond, above, around.

'till life and body separates
and my story is lost in the pounding stream
of faces, piety, tears, and blood
that churns in the incense before
the throne of God.

pulling and straining to breathe
above the maddening and insignificant babble,
to hear one word one name one phrase
burned into memory by longing

and the drum rushes on
with falling feet on gravel
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