Chiron

I was running.

Because that’s all I could do.

Run.

My dirty red converse slapped the pavement.

Running and running and running.

I was at the park now.

Faster

Faster I ran.

Past tourists,

Past benches dedicated to the lost,

Past young trees and old trees.

Past the ten cent pizza place.

Past Mr. Michael’s gelato.

I slipped under my favorite old oak tree.

I named him “Chiron”,

for my favorite Greek myth.

“Chiron!” I called. “Chiron! We’re moving.”

“Chiron, everything hurts.”

“Chiron, Dad’s sick.”

“Chiron, the doctors don’t know if they can fix him.”

“Chiron!” “Chiron!” “Chiron!”

Chiron held me in his leafy embrace.

“It will be okay”, he seemed to say.

Because that’s all he could say.