By Monica C. Voskamp
She ran. Running she could do.
Bearing her soul to those
Who couldn’t understand
She couldn’t.
She wouldn’t.
She couldn’t stay.
It was too much pain.
She couldn’t stay with those,
Who didn’t get the pain
With those who knew
how to judge,
But not how to hold her,
Close.
She ran. Ran hard.
She ran from what she was told
Was love.
How could life be so twisted?
How had black and white
Turned into a world of
Confusing grey.
She ran, and now
She was more alone.
She needed a safe place.
Just one shoulder
that was strong enough
To bear the weight
of her world.
But no matter where she ran,
She couldn’t find
A safe place
To release her composure
And let her tears flood
the earth.
How long could she run
How long would it take
To find some relief
To find misery gone
How long would it be
Before she could just
Be still and breathe.
She didn’t know.
It ached her soul.
She didn’t know
How much longer
She could be strong.
Dam strength.
Dam perfection.
She couldn’t do either.
And it was hardest
thing to admit.
She did pride,
That she knew.
She did lonely,
That was true.
She could run.
But she couldn’t understand
How love can,
If love would
Meet someone in the grey.
She only hoped,
Only hoped as she ran,
Love would somehow
Collide with her.
Always hope. Always believe. Always love. ❤
Cover photo credit: Photo by Francesco Gallarotti on Unsplash