En Route to Future

Here I am, smack dab in the middle of the Eiffel tower, of my lifespan.
A footballer on the edge of a gymnast's springboard,
Squinty, crinkled eyelids, soaring through the air at a target made of sand approximately 5,000 miles away.

Hey you, I am running to...not away.

Barreling down this narrow runway strip, chest up, towards the heavens,
taking off towards the change I can make in the dreams and the lives of the children of tomorrow.

Looking back is, adding chains around my neck.
Praying for your return, bricks onto my chest.

Galloping through the dawns first mist, flaming mane in the wind, over jumps and threats I fly.
No earthly creature can spook me, slow me, stop me now that I've begun.

Boston Harbour

Black ripples,
wash against familiar granite,
worn smooth in time
with clanking halyards.

The granite seawall
remembers my heels,
banging silently
to the pulse
of my harbor.

The wind, here,
always carries away
the weight from my chest,
on a seaweed breeze.

I don't know
that behind me,
is a comatose city
that can't hear
the rigging's laughter
or taste the veritable calm,
that I cannot live without.