Thirteen miles.

from your doorstep to where I’m staying.

two months of talking reduced to one phone call.

now. Here I sit. Alone.

I should have been with you.

learning about you.

But. Now. I’m packing to leave for home. And. You’re with someone else. Thirteen miles away

We walked thirteen miles down the slopes, down the pouring rain, down and away from the city. We walked thirteen miles with our home on our backs. We walked thirteen miles holding my little sister's hand, her eyes wide open in terror. We walked thirteen miles listening to the air sirens screeching behind us. We walked thirteen miles wondering if we would make it with just two eggs and a sandwich packed hastily the morning of. We walked thirteen miles and saw the sullen faces of our neighbors staring ahead but also seemingly nowhere. We walked thirteen miles and heard the explosion.

We walked thirteen miles.

How many more will it take before the sky no longer grieves our losses?

I don’t know how many

miles go into

a half marathon

I thought it was measured

in pain

maybe it’s lucky number

thirteen

I wonder what they’re

running from

if it’s weight gain

or if the adrenaline

kicks in

dopamine

a feeling that’s free