What if we saw
The lines in their head
That kept their arms and legs going going going.
faster, longer, more weight & steps.
One more minute turns into ten
And we keep going, looking ahead to the one that we wish to be
The constant dialogue in our heads.
‘Keep going, you’ve only burned off that one piece of bread.’
If our dialog spoke, out loud, what would it be like there?
Would we see each other with eyes of compassion, or continue in competition?
Maybe I’d see her, and introduce myself, letting her know she is not alone.
Or, I’d suggest to the other she’s beautiful just the way she is.
I’d remind him that looks fade, and what she wants is a kind heart.
Or, someone would come to me, and reassure me I will not be more worthy the smaller I am.
What lines come up, to reveal our pain.
