running

breath falls in slaps as feet hit hard, the ground
in shaking trembles looking up to see
the soles of feet, tense, taut by muscles bound
in pounding tremors for the world to breathe
a sigh, a gasp of freedom's aching train
of thoughts that circumnavigate the track
in curves that leap becoming blister's pain,
red bursts in sharpest feeling, looking back
a stumble falls, hits hard against the face,
a crash of hands, the body curls to hide
the aching cry of disappointment's trace,
a drift, a limp revealing wounded side.
sit not, stand up, walk slow, then jog, a run
of smiles to prove that, yes, this can be done.