Race Weary

A Poem by kpeterson

Attempting to capture the "soul fatigue" we can experience in this life.

Race Weary

This moment is hard
This place in time, in this cosmos
With all it's disconcerting magnitude
In this body, in this my solitary race
Designed before I began,
I sit.
I crumple in the middle of the dusty course
Sides heaving, lungs screaming,
Soul cramping.

Not for the heat really,
Not due to unreasonable terrain,
But because I tire of the very notion of running.

Sometimes the difficulty of this course stuns, Father God.

The trials of this trail hurt more than I expected.
Winding switchbacks,
They come too close together.
They burn
And in so doing illuminate pain all round
Not just my own

I see others limping.
Yes, a few stride on smiling faintly,
Others, youthful, laugh and sing as they pass.
But some bend,
Hands on knees,
Sucking air.

Some leave the race altogether
Bruised, bloody, crippled.
Some, like me, won't leave the course
but exchange baffled looks and an encouraging word.

And as I sit in the dust weary of this race set before me,
I wonder why He allows such suffering on the trail
I wonder how He plans to judge the race,
Judge the racers.

Be merciful Lord.
I am but dust.
I am frail and tire easily
My children are frail
And their course seems even steeper than mine.
You know we can't see the finish line
Nor the refreshment to follow.
We simply believe.

I will run this race
Because I see no other
I will run this race because You, Creator God,