Rose Gatherers

 

A fragile state

Is a world of isolation

 

An ultrarunner

Is strong like her mother

 

To a point

Before she is extracted 

 

Bounty depleted

Not bountiful 

 

Like touted 

She wanes 

 

Under moonlight

Her sister sphere 

 

Watches 

The sweeper 

 

Custodians of night

Crawlers

 

Decay catchers

The entropy watchers

 

Take flight

 

 

Sweepers are race volunteers who collect trail carnage – DNFer’s with want without will. Resources in short supply the giver upper lay like exoskeleton Earth, swiftly returning to crust. There is no quick fix to the replenishment of their body; they are more karst and lunar by the minute. Dependent on rescue, the volunteer fights for the extension of life. Waiting and searching, patience is their superpower.

 

I use the rose as a symbol for ultrarunners wilting in the latter miles of a race, fighting a battle against decay. Some will be slowly corralled to the finish and some will be tenderly collected. The roses (runners) are very delicate. Fragile when found, sweepers have to be delicate too in their gathering.

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Rose Gatherers attempts to reveal the sliding fluidity of an ultra mind. A fatigue drive. Primal. The courage to flirt with the edges of human potential. The pain of extraction and the delirium of hope. An exploration of aid and its impact.

 

Rose Gatherers converses with the resiliency of life, but does not assume infinity.