Running

School field.

Muddy, damp, cold.

I love it.

I'm on my own,

I get transported,

I feel free.

It's the only time

I ever really feel FREE.

Team sports don't appeal.

Hockey at our school is like

gang warfare.

An hour of getting battered and bruised,

girls coming at me with sticks —

aiming for ankles.

But the running track…

Now…

The track is my time.

I shift my thoughts,

try and

make sense of…

stuff.

With each stride

I zoom through anger,

leap through sadness,

tear through loneliness

and

come out

the other side

newer, happier, better.

ALWAYS better

than before.

It feels like

the world

slows down.

Allowing me

to catch up

with thoughts

that usually race.

I go to places in my head

that aren't here,

of this place,

of this time.

The lines in my head

get tangled, see.

They criss-cross,

get mixed up.

Running makes the lines

s  t  r  a  i  g  h  t  e  r.

Turns down the rage

in my stomach.

Loosens the phantom grip

on my throat.

Provides respite

from the familiar

urge to

escape.

Running

gives me a purpose.

Running

gives me a reason

                                                   to live.

© Manjeet Mann, from Run, Rebel, Penguin, 2020