Runner

Like little boys racing against red-orange hues against dark, dark blue to spread the day's news;
Runner, with a bag packed and ready to go at a moment's notice (you will never find me staying past my welcome); 
Runner, get going now. The sun's coming up and you need to be off someplace else, someplace less - comfortable. 
Runner / wayfarer / "jajabor" as they say in your mother-tongue (in your mother's tongue?), your place is in the wrinkled edges of the in betweens, in the crevices folded into cliffs of granite that lead from world to world. Do not make a hearth in the heart of any home. Runner, there is danger in standing still. Runner, the sun is rising over these hills–gray green turned gold in the morning light. Runner, there is no kindling like the sun on your face and this pack on your back and the burn in your lungs as you trudge through these paths of packed earth and gravel. 
Runner, keep steady. This pack is heavy and we must go a long way. 

Wasima Aziz is an undergrad student currently learning to let things be. Send words of advice to [email protected] or find her on Instagram @washeem_cant_decide.