He ran from her,
down the busy streets,
horns blowing,
wind in the alleys,
Daylight gave way to darkness,
It got colder,
wet.
He ran through the alleys
and the shopping malls.
He ran through the stores,
filled with busy people.
They had no time for him,
There were no directions here.
He ran from the ghosts
that haunted him.
He feared the spirits.
They followed him everywhere.
He wondered,
did everyone have photographs,
alive with fear?
He ran into a Church,
and settled into a pew,
He prayed for guidance.
If he stayed in the warm embrace of the altar,
he might never leave.
He wanted to run again.
Then, as he approached the exit,
he found her outside,
in the rain and cold.
Her arms were open.
Her embrace didn’t feel like death,
or dying.
It felt like living.
He might try this for a while.
He could always run again,
away from the ghosts and goblins,
away from the photographs with no face,
away from the one dimensional images
of dark citizens,
of a world
he wasn’t yet ready to join.
Comments