The Runner Poem by Isabelle Aubree

The girl’s heart pounds in her throat as the effervescent light dances in her eyes.
Pound.
Pound.
Pound.
The rhythmic breathing begins to shake, waver, shudder.
Clenched fists to open palm, exposing soft skin to the hurtling wind.
The overwhelming sense of loss of hope is pushed aside as she rages on.
Each foot reaching the concrete is another battle won by this point.
Almost there.
Where?
No one can see it but her.
The finishing line is too far to see.
She is blind.
Open your eyes. Quick. Don’t fall now.
You’re too close.
In-out. In-out.
Pound. Pound. Pound.
Focus in and don’t relent.
Watch how the frustration melts away.
As the tears seep through your pores.
Numb.
You made it.