How can you know when you run? (inspired by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young: ‘How can you run when you know?)

What are we running from?

Where are we going?

My feet hurt, but I don’t have time to rub them

Or cool them in a stream.

Like a deer,

Leaping old barbed wire, and new

I bound over smoldering fires

Hotspots,

Always cautious, always anxious for the herd.

I’m like an old dog

Showing that I still have it in me

To run and run and run.

Always, always away.

I can barely see the city rushing past.

I have wings on my feet.

My sight skims over the bones of things.

I see too much.

I smell the fear . . .

But I keep running.

I see the future like a slow-motion wave

Before which I am flying,

Before the crash and foam.

What message am I carrying

From god to impotent god?

What silver-winged flight have I achieved

Leaping from mist-draped ledge to fog to cloud...

For the rest of this new poem by GARY LINDORFF, poet in residence at ThisCantBeHappening!, the uncompromised, collectively run, five-time Project Censored Award-winning online alternative news site, please go to: www.thiscantbehappening.net/node/3274