Onward

One last race: she bends down,
Reaching for the floor. She has to bow down
To all her insecurities, all her shadows,
for one last time. She has to drop her fears
On the floor, where her feet stay put
For just a minute more.

 She looks, for the last time, below
At the land where she is standing:
There is no looking back afterwards.
The gunshot rings in her ears, and she
takes the steps towards the future,
As if there is a crowd cheering.

But the race is with herself,
not with others - she is running,
Not to escape the ugliness of the past,
But to embrace the uncertainty
that the future brings as consequence.
As her tears and sweat drop behind her,
She runs, gaining confidence.

Her breath is running out, and yet
That tells her she is near the finish line.
No more looking down, or back -
She runs toward the rising sun,
Its rays embracing her as she crosses
that coveted finish line. Then all is silent.

There is no applause, no regard.
There is no celebration. At the end,
She walks away from the track silently,
feeling her life has been fulfilled,