Hurdles

Standard

The landscape sprung to life suddenly.
A myriad of hurdles came to dominate
the straight road forward.
You and I, with our legs unfit for leaping,
were at an obvious disadvantage.

At first, I figured a change in vantage point
would be the key, a new way
of relating to the scenery
to give my feeble legs the inspiration
they needed desperately to clear
these damned obstructions,
so I traded in my own point of view
for a few others I’d stolen from
ancient texts composed by dead men,
tried each one on as I would a coat, and
promptly discarded the ones that didn’t fit.
Which was all of them as it turns out.

You said, “Well let’s try anyway.
We haven’t had the opportunity before,
maybe we’re already capable
and we just don’t know it,”
and took off running. I watched
as you came to the first hurdle
and clumsily took to the air,
only to come crashing to the ground,
brittle bones cracked and piercing
through your gossamer flesh.

In your moment of distress, a new truth
struck me: if you can’t jump over the hurdle,
it makes more sense to crawl beneath it.

-r. miller

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