To continue my poem-journey this week of a poem a day. I am pulling from past and new work that infer an inner spiritual movement — awareness of body, awareness of nature/God-in-nature. The awareness of that unknown entity we understand as that-which-cannot-be-named-known-or-described…

The Long Run

© Hilary F. Marckx, all rights reserved

Long run,
from my home in Fair Oaks, CA,
down Fair Oaks Boulevard to Sailor Bar,
along the American River
back up Illinois
to home —
sweat running rivers,
oxygen debt cramping for payback.
Start on
asphalt and flat.
Cars, exhaust and noise.
Run to side road.
No traffic, oak trees
to river run and wild land.
Wild run.
Berries grab bare legs,
rocks roll under shoes,
leaves fall,
creatures dive for cover.

Trail could be anywhere, but follows American River
along long-dead dreams of miners.
Dredger tailings.
Ancient stream-bed exposed,
geo-history bared to present.

And I run
not fast, but steady.
Sun of valley’s edge bakes me.
Early summer run, grass still green, smell still new,
life still fresh.

The big hawks hunt,
some life in the balance.
I run.
The hawks hunt and I run.
no hawk as free–so bound to territory–
I run seven-mile circle
and shower.


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