The Mile Next
By
    Photo by Sunny Lee / North by Northwestern

    It will only be
    one more mile
    until my lungs
    give up.
    They have only
    held me back,
    tried to keep me
    on the ground.

    But in one mile
    my lungs will burst
    sending forth shards
    of used-to-be obstacles
    that dissipate into
    the chilled air I see
    around me now.

    Only one more mile
    until my feet leave
    the ground,
    until gravity no longer
    has a say in
    the way I glide.

    That heavy force makes
    it feel so impossible
    to fly,
    and I won’t stand for it
    at a time like this
    when I’m so close to never
    touching down again.

    In one more mile
    the pounding in my ribs
    will sync with the
    rhythm of my feet
    creating a hypnotic beat
    to synthesize my strides.

    The melody plays on a
    loop inside my skull
    and pushes out the rest-
    ideas that take up
    too much space,
    weeds that suck
    the life out of things
    that deserve to breathe.

    That loop,
    The pounding in a cage,
    and the soul of my feet
    work to clean me out
    and set me free.

    Because once the cleanse
    is done I am light as air
    I am able to fly
    to the mile next
    and eventually return
    to solid ground
    devoid of the weight
    that comes with the sense
    to know I really can’t fly.

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