A Story Poem by Aimee Nell

The Race
-
Running.
Faster, faster, faster.
Cutting through the dim light.
Weaving,
Back and forth between the trees.
Leg's pumping,
Harder, harder, harder.
Drumming in my head.
Drumming in my heart.
Heartbeat racing,
Racing to stay level with my legs.
-
Trees
-
And then the light opens up.
The trees part,
And the glorious summer Sun beats down on my back.
The breaking of light stuns me,
As if I thought the trees would never end.
The horrid trees,
Ripping,
Scratching at my body, my face, my legs.
Trying to slow me.
Trying to stop me.
-
Never Ending
-
And now I run.
Faster than ever.
Never Ending.
Slicing through the soft grasses,
Like a boat skimming through water.
And the Sun.
Oh, the Sun.
Beautiful Dawn bringing the light.
And it looks to never end.
It never should end.
This is freedom.
This is bliss.
And it looks to never end.
And the Sun screams a promise,
'This will never end.'
-
Broken Promise
-
And the chasm appears.
A great schism ripping apart the earth.
Never saw it coming.
And the beautiful Sun,
And the soft grass...
Continues -
On the other side.
But I fall.
Plunged into the dark again.
It is blacker here.
Not like in the trees.
-
Screaming
-
Stagnant air envelopes me,
Suffocating me.
And I scream for the Sun,
To pull me back up.
Let me breathe again.
Let me smell the sweet air that can only come from it,
Beating down on the soil,
The grass,
The wildflowers.
But there is no reply.
I scream again,
Mourning the loss,
The broken promise.
-
Cold
-
And still I fall.
The sides of the divide catch at me,
Rip me.
But it goes on.
The rocks pounding away at me.
Chipping me away
Little... by... little....
But still I fall.
And the bottom is nowhere is sight,
As it grows cold,
From the lack of the Sun's angelic warmth.
-
When will this end?