Morning mind dashes
abruptly headlong
the starting gun still
smoking --

Wait one second!
I did not sign up for this race!

Heart pounding
cutting over, changing lanes, dodging
others, nearly tripping

I will be disqualified.

I don’t want to be a sprinter.

In the grass I catch my breath.
The urge to become limp, to dissolve
is so strong.
No, I say kindly, but certainly clear.

Some patterns are made for breaking, and
the only truth worth running toward: your body, alive.

Sunbeams stretch, silhouetting
mountains, trees, and
I remember: isn’t it lovely,
morning’s first desire to reach, open for the light?