I am at the middle,
where the dreams that emanated hope
are beginning to lose their light.
Where the birds that whispered  “good morning”
to me every day, as I skipped under the trees,
can no longer be heard
over the beating of my heart in my ears,
the race of the sweat trickling down my face. 

Now I have end goals,
wishes and aspirations –

To do better. To find that beginning spark once more.
I can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel
– but I couldn’t see it five weeks ago,
so what difference does it make? 

Maybe it isn’t at all about searching for the light,
perhaps the light is already here,
somewhere, buried among the books and piles
of scribbled papers and to-do lists,
on the sidelines of a race
that has slowed
to a
crawl.

Pick myself up, dust myself off.
Find that smile in the mirror and keep going –
not dragging, not sprinting – but going.