Slowharm

Slow harm. Slow sun.
Your wild lions are crying.
Give me back my heart.
Give me back what I was born without.
I make these steps so lightly,
As if they could never leave behind the proof
That I was once standing upon your ground.
And I run in my sister's shoes
That she left on my bedroom floor so long ago.
She is gone now like I wish that you were.
I pull these laces tighter as you pull me closer.
And I learn to run.
But not too far, I could never leave you,
For you are the gravity that pulls me back before the bend.
I circle, then fall and skin my hands and knees.
This hour is barely creeping on
With its slow harm and molten sun.
Still I break the neck of the day
And run.