The Last Mile

Found them under a pile of things,

these runners, still holding springs

of old momentum, what it brings.

Dusty, tired, the laces frayed.

The rubber sole, where my right foot falls,

is worn so thin, it almost calls

attention to the strength of walls

I ran against, or through.

That one torn spot, a gash so deep,

where a loose rock made my heart leap,

then drove me on, secrets to keep,

and promises to make good.

They carried me, each pounding stride,

past doubts and fears I couldn't hide.

Just cheap canvas, by my side,

till I was done with all I could.