Ashes. Ashes.

Ring around the Rosie

Pocket full of Posies

Ashes. Ashes.

From the minute we are born we are taught to crawl. The second we crawl we are told to stand. The moment we stand, we are pushed to run. Run, for life is a race and only the best can win. So we start to run ahead of our peers, racing them past the playground and into the library, rushing to fill information in our heads. Racing past first kisses and heart-breaks, picking up moments and milestones like trophies for life’s display case. Racing towards the finish line that is our future. And as we sprint past one-another, some of us start to falter, to fall down. Yet we don’t even realize, because suddenly we’ve all grown-up. Now, there is no finish line. This race has no end, and the sky seems to bend, encircling our worn-down track as we continue to run in unfulfilling circles. Our heads start to hurt, but we say it’s all fine. Our legs start to burn, but we numb the pain with wine. Saturday nights are now for living, and Sunday mornings for playing catch-up. Because now the goal of this race is not to be first, but to at least make it to the end, to at least get a participation medal. We start to realize our life may not matter, our mediocrity begins to hunt us, and we grow scared. Blaming the starting point, we tell our children to run even harder, to be even faster, to become even stronger. Pushing them and ourselves past the breaking point on life’s treadmill. We keep running. Run to pick up the kids from school on time. Rush to attend couples therapy. Run to find some sort of meaning, make time for hobbies we never knew we even wanted. Race to move up the corporate ladder. Run to make a difference. Time starts to slip away, it begins to seem as if we have been running for too long, but now we are too scared to stop. Because if we stop now, none of this even mattered. So we try to slow down. Grabbing the hands of those around us, grasping at connections once lost. All in an effort to put a stop to our own momentum. And for a while, it works. But soon, we are running harder than ever before, pulling along the weight of those who have begun to collapse all around us. Running for the relationships we made last minute. Running to have final adventures, to find last words. Running away from past regrets. Running for ourselves for a change. Running a race against time. Runni-

And then suddenly our legs snap.

Inexplicably.

And we all fall down.

#poetry