My lungs grab for air

Each fistful burns 

Whistles in my ear more uneven 

than the ground beneath 

my feet

Are the only things guiding me right now

I can’t see clearly in the brightness yet

Resigning myself to a blindfold 

I ran

My being knows the terrain 

like the nursery rhymes my father sung to me 

The paths are unchanged 

The rocks and plants and trees 

all where they are supposed to be

The dirt feels the same under my toes as I come to a stop

I know that if I nudge my foot just a smidge further I’ll touch the water 

The blindfold is the only thing anchoring me 

My valley may not have change its layout 

But I feel the difference

It is the same path that I have walked and ran with ease through the year

But for the first time I worked up a sweat navigating it 

From the run

From heat simmering in the air around me 

From the gut wrenching realization 

that my home 

speaks no more 

The silence is deafening 

No songs of birds 

No critters chasing after another 

No calls 

No flutters 

No movement 

No anything 

I’d say they’re all in hiding

But I had felt the cold fur of dead animals brush my skin as I ran 

The crunch of withered plants and stems

Mud and puddles where there should be shallow water 

Everything was wrong