The Run

Back to the start line again. The last run was annuled because of his disloyalty to the team. He went away and left me alone standing on the racetrack struck dumbfounded. But now he has come back to me once more with face looking down; regretting his blunder, deploring the absence of my existence. Despite of the loud objections from the jury I opened my arms to hear his pleas and accept his apologies. Yet forgiving is easier than forgetting, because I can still feel how my open wounds bled. The hurt sways like pendulum swinging in a regular interval, providing doubt with materials in order to thicken its walls around me. Nevertheless, the decision to revert has been reached, eventhough it has not been publicly announced. Preparation has to be made: remedies to heal injuries, cool spring water to quench thirst, music to sooth pain, attention to break down doubtwalls.

Words of forgiveness have been said; a new beginning has been agreed. So now I have to be consistent: hold on to what was spoken. So now I have to be fair: give him the chance to redeem. Obsolete hurts have to be forgotten, retaliation has to be wiped away. Back I am to the start line, my hand in his, waiting to hear the cry of "ready, get set, go!"