The Heart Of Movement

Between ancient stone walls,
along curving seaside paths,
beneath branches of pine, maple, birch,
under expansive prairie skies -

To celebrate, honour,
to remember, mourn -

When we feel joy,
brimming with sunshine,
content in who we are -

Our bodies light in the air,
the birdsong dancing around us,
smiling comes easily -

When we feel pain,
in our dark seasons,
or anxious moments -

When we pull ourselves onto the trail,
each stride difficult,
the sun too merry -

From a European campsite
after a tiring day
learning of atrocities,
humans against humans -

Beside a shining lake
nestled between mountains
as swans look angrily on
and bicyclists speed by -

On rural roads
to prove our bodies can still move
and running can be toward something,
instead of just away -

On city paths,
ten years later,
the sky our favourite blue,
the clouds reminding us of home -

With music,
or without -

​We are women,
running.

In many time zones
and countries - 
​
On sunny days,
in rain,
​in wind -

For marathons,
for birthdays,
for ourselves - 

We run -

And even if we are the only person in sight,
we are not alone,
​we are many -

We are women.
running.
​together.

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