If trees were ents…


The path I ran today was yellow on dirt.

Leaves, though the smell could not yet reach me

bounced sparkles of sunlight back to me as I scoured the ground for

tree roots and solid stones.  It was glorious!


It began as usual, compulsive begging

to the Lord

with each pounding of my heel.

As if he couldn’t hear me.

As if he wasn’t there.


Unraveled, I found myself receiving

the friendly greetings

of both people and deer

while my body slid into a rhythm.  I tried to be silent.

‘The best runner leaves no trace.’


So I ebbed and flowed with the ground.

Courage crept upon me as I clung to a trunk.

I slid

down the hill

to the river with its boulders.

I looked up and saw the lean-to.

Who built it?

They sure did pick the spot!


Passing the trees I had already greeted

and the stones already felt underfoot

I remembered something I might have known since I was born

I’m  frightened to learn.


If somebody hears me sing, then tell me I’m wrong, how will my courage endure the learn?

If I play cello for your orchestra, how will I ever face the audience?

If I run faster, will I run faster again?


How far can I go?

How far can I take this when fear goes on break?


Do not all the virtues branch from courage?



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