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NaPoWriMo 3

April 4, 2012

link to NaPoWriMoI’m sat safely at home whilst the UK weather has changed from March’s sunbathing surprise to an Easter week blizzard.  You know why people in the UK talk about the weather so much?  It’s because we have no idea what is going to happen next.   The weather is a legitimate topic of conversation. None of this has anything to do with today’s poem.  I want to write about playing rugby league at a beleaguered club called Bradford Bulls, but I think the events which culminated in me playing upon their hallowed turf must wait for another day.  Capturing that experience needs some more time in my poetry head.  Instead I offer this.  A poem about exhilaration.  When I read this I love it’s sense of pace but the third to last line is tricky.  Speaking slowly to imply pace.  Try it for yourselves.

Beyond ourselves

we ran
how those words fail to convey our excitement
our feet
striking the skittering scree
arms flailing
exuberantly careless
joyfully flying
down the fell side

we ran
with the certainty of youth
that we could never break
so we leapt
plummeting down
giant strides
held safe by confidence and naivety
whooping ancient sounds of glee

we ran
great bounding steps
transition from rock to grass
hurdling ferns and hummocks
our beautiful animal bodies reacting
faster than conscious thought
carrying our minds
beyond ourselves

we were magic
we ran across the bog
our momentum such
that the sucking sphagnum
could not hold us
nor the marsh sedge slow us.
we ran upon water
and laughed with the joy of it

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