Marathon Line-Up

Predawn walk over

the bridge from the Pentagon.

Voices carry in the fog.

Lights diffuse from flashlights

carried in gloved hands,

shaking from nerves and cold.

Each here with purpose

excited anticipation

cold sweat wafting

off all, jumping to warm

waking muscles.

Shadowy shapes blend

undefined, soft

merging together

in and out of focus

until we get the call

to get in line.

As one we stand

and drift or gather

those friends who did not hear,

making our way to where

we will start our next

phase of waiting.

I realized as I walked through the dark to the pre-marathon party that the ghostly forms and whispered conversations turned the atmosphere into the most holy space I had ever experienced, and the warm invitation of all these strangers is a comforting view of heaven.

This poem was originally published on Medium.