Morning Run with my daughter on MLK Day
I follow her lead to go for a run, and then
follow her departure as she heads off down the road,
leaving me holding my own stretch in the doorway
as I attempt to loosen my limbs
and my mind’s muscular resistance to expanding
my lung’s capacity to breathe
and my heart’s ability to pump blood through
a fast moving body
I can’t see her on the path ahead of me,
but I know our feet are touching the same ground
I look for her imprints in the mud
my impressions now smaller than her own
the hillside creek applauds me with yesterday’s rain
new ferns and grass sing green, a higher octave
than the gray brown blanket the ground murmured last week
a tiny mountain mammal squeaks what seems to be
its own search for someone or something not seen
I stop trying to catch her
settle into my own rhythm
and simply breathe
Turkey vultures with their ragged red heads cluster
on a rock overlooking the fog blown valley
waiting to feast on a skunk that was just
squashed in the middle of the road, its potent fragrance still strong in the air
reminding us all that we are here
moving through the mud path sloshed with decay and renewal
running just behind our own disappearance
I dance to Ed Sheren’s “I see fire” as I dodge cars
on the curve of the Panoramic Highway
raise my arms in the pleasure
of Being
Free
and know, more than I know anything
that freedom is
has been
and always will be
meant for every body
Samantha Wallen, MFA is a poet, writer, book coach, Founder of Write In Power.
