To Run the Wild Beast

Reflections on a morning run, March 27, 2010
Athens, Georgia
March 2011, revised June 23, 2013

Yes, I remember

how it was in spring

to set out in darkness and ease

into the light pace that takes you nowhere

and home. How paved roads roll

easy underfoot, as stride by stride

you stretch through strength to joy.  

How brisk east wind blows cold on sweat

through muscle and marrow and deeper yet

to cleanse the body, unburden the soul,

to shed all distractions and fall into flow,

in silence the mind to step out of time –

to stride the high plains

under African sky

in searing noon heat

bold predator, I

to run the wild beast

through tortuous lands

where Eden is naught

but hazy mirage

that hovers beyond

uncountable dawns

with history’s tears

still yet to be shed

no burden of why

nor what lies ahead

eternity’s now

impressed on my will

inside of my heart

on glistening skin

in deepening breath

the freshening wind

for immortal am I

till the moment I die

or run out my race

and reenter time –

where asphalt

yields to open fields

and far across a waking

park, white halos of pear

blossom hover against silhouettes

of a treeline emerging from dark, pale

spectors of spring in the soft morning light,

         which harbors a spirit

                                         attempting to soar

                        escaping the darkness

                                encasing our core

in primitive peace

                reconnected once more.

"Primitive Dawn" by David Noah, Winterville, Georgia