we are running into our futures
down paths of discovery where
opportunity lies in uncertainty ahead
our strength is our ability
to listen to the still small voices within us
that grow clearer and
stronger each time
we run together
adapting to our changing lives
refusing to be held back by
attachments of bygone years
we are running into our futures
not away from our past
Inspired by Lucille Clifton’s poem, I am running into the new year, that was shared and discussed with my friends during our Journal Calling session in December 2022. All the women in this group have myeloma or AML and a wonderful sense of humour, determination and strength.
The photo was taken during the Scottish Schools Cross Country Championships at Riccarton, Edinburgh in 1982. I have always loved running.
September 2023 is Blood Cancer Awareness Month. It is also Child Cancer Awareness Month. Every day 10 children in the UK are diagnosed with cancer. Of those lucky enough to survive, many will have long-term side-effects that may significantly impact their lives forever.
I am posting one poem per day to recognise this and raise money for the Ellen MacArthur Cancer Trust. This charity provides sailing and other outdoor adventures for children and young people aged 8-24 who have been treated for cancer. But it’s more than that. There’s a package of support around this including siblings, return trips, volunteering opportunities and so on. The Trust also works hard to ensure their work is environmentally sustainable. You can make a donation HERE!
This one sparked many a thought, but mainly it gave me pause with the photo and the line "we run together". Running is so often seen as a solo thing. We strive for a new personal personal records (PRs). Push ourselves to shave one more part of second off our best time from the past. The mud slows us down sometimes and strong PRs from the past eventually become our best, but we keep running.
Your line" we run together" brings such comfort . . . yes PRs are worthy goals but in the long run, it is the running together that seems to matter most. Your courage becomes part of my strength to try; my participation in the race becomes part of your courage.
I used to think of our life journeys as being on some sort of conveyor belt that sped up with time pulling us forward at increasing speeds whether we like it not. As children, we eagerly climbed on. As we age, we sometime dig our heals in or turn and face backward. Your image of running-forward/ running-to/bringing-all-that-was-with-us to what WILL BE is beautiful.
I need to shift my metaphor away from the conveyor belt and toward the light of your words.
One more line that gave me pause . . . "our strength is our ability to listen to the still small voices"
So much there, but I just want to say it is truly poetic how you have used a shading pencil to blend the idea of running forward and being still enough to listen. I even like the word 'small' in this line. It evokes both the sweetness of a child and Psalm 46.
Keep on, keeping on, Juliet. Your words make a difference.
Thinking of you always too. X