Left.

This is a poem I wrote recently after a race.

a quiet room, except for all
the sounds.
her feet are pounding
an unbeatable ground.
a finish line so far,
and repetitions so willing.
this fight will not resolve anything, or anyone
anytime, or any place

free your body into the world.

let the dirt sift through your toes
and the sun
kiss poison into your face
let your feet ache and your lungs burn
but at least  you will have won.

a fight worth fighting for
a right worth writing for
the door is right, to your left.