Marathon

"Marathon"

                                                Petals

on a river, a tree in blossom, one

pink bud—unopened—falls

& is carried downstream & out

to sea. From

above the other petals seem to 

carry it. Closer—

this is our map, these our

footprints, we

grew up drinking this water. At the

start there

was doubt, we lit a torch, no one

believed we would

make it. Closer—

the legs, the heart, the lungs. It's

too soon to say

we were lucky, it's too soon to say

anything

until the cloud is pulled back

from the sky, until the ringing is

pulled back from the bells. Look—

everyone we've ever known

runs without thinking

not away but into the cloud, where we are

waiting

-by Nick Flynn, from My Feelings (2015)