I’m half-way through the race
when I realized I’m wearing
mismatched socks again.
The left sock is much softer,
thicker than the one worn
by my blistering right foot.
I ran rubbing on the rawness
of these sores while my feet
burnt across the winding track.
It stung more apparently as I
came much closer to the finish
line, expecting second place.
This is one way of tolerating pain.
Keep rushing. Don’t think, until
you get there. I kept it numb.
Not without stumbling, I crossed it,
my face slapping the pavement.
Mismatched socks did it again.
(first verse from Jov)
No comments:
Post a Comment