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