The Runners

There go the runners,
Taut limbs in motion like
Spiders’ legs
Panting with life,
Carrying with them
Eyes a hundred years old and still
Moving like lizards
Through the red streets of home.

Hear them running
Up from the wells and rivers
From the desolate schools,
Feet flying
Aflame
With the royalty of their
Own insignificance,

My god
Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?

Mouths open,
Cawing,
Speaking the language of youth
Of mischief,
Of secrets

Theirs is the movement
Of limitlessness,
The rhythmic language of
Running;
Theirs the power of knowing
And not accepting
Defeat.

©K Paige Medina 9/3/2016

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