Prose
alaska is wet- story
phoenix is dry- concrete
the trails i run- the trail
are still alike- my trail
i am on my trail,
running as I am a son
my father's father
and his father
ran in the woods
wet woods soggy trails
soggy air luxury of running,
i ran on the ridges above
llano as I ran in alaska long before i ran
in the desert
and all trails are the same
my footsteps are their footsteps,
i ran the high mesas- red
the bisti bad lands- black
the lupine meadows- azure
the track at eldorado high- warm
the concrete at ash- cold,
i am light
i am on my feet
i am running
as they ran then
they run today
as running is done,
connecting all things
i connect my vision
i connect my memory
i connect my heritage
i connect my truth
i connect each step
to the last.
(pjreed 2012)
paoloreed@gmail.com
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I would really love input of any kind from anybody with any interest whatsoever in the issues that I am sharing in this blog. I mean it, anybody, for I will be the first one to admit that I may be inaccurately depicting certain aspects of the conditions
at ASH, and anonymous comments are fine. In any case, I am more than willing to value anybody's feelings about my writing, and I assure you that I will not intentionally exploit or otherwise abuse your right to express yourself as you deem fit. This topic is far, far too important for anything less. Thank you, whoever you are. Peace and Frogs.