RACE

RACE

“Quit! Give up! You are beaten!

They shout at me and plead.”

“There is just too much against you now

This time you cannot succeed.”

And as I start to hang my head

In front of failure’s face,

My downward fall is broken by

The memory of a race.

And hope refills my weakened will

As I recall that scene;

For just the thought of that short race

Rejuvenates my being.

Children’s race-young boys, young men-

How I remember well.

Excitement, sure! But also fear;

It was not hard to tell.

They all lined up so full of hope;

Each thought to win that race.

Or tie for first, or if not that,

At least take second place.

And fathers watched from off the side

Each cheering for his son.

And each boy hoped to show his dad

That he would be the one.

The   whistle blew and off they went,

Young hearts and hopes a fire.

To win and be the hero there

As each young boy’s desire.

And one boy in particular,

Whose dad was in the crowd,

Was running near the lead and thought

‘My dad will be so proud!

But as they sped down the field

Across a shallow dip,

The little boy so thought to win

Lost his step and slipped.

Trying hard to catch himself

His hands flew out to brace,

But mid the laughter of the crowd

He fell flat on his face.

So down he fell and with him hope

He could not win it how0-

Embarrassed, sad, he only wished

To disappear somehow.

But as he fell his dad stood up,

And showed his anxious face,

Which to the boy so clearly said,

“Get up and win the race.”

He quickly rose, no damage done,

Behind a bit,’ that’s all.

And ran with all his mind an might

To make up for his fall.

So anxious to restore himself

To catch up and to win-

Him mind went faster than his legs;

He slipped and fell again!

He wished then he had quit before,

With only one disgrace.

“I am hopeless as a runner now;

I should not try to race.”

But in laughing crowd he searched

And found his father’s face;

That steadily looks which said again;

“Get up and win the race!”

So up he jumped to try again

Ten yards behind the last-

“If I am to gain those yards “he thought,

I have got to move real fast.”

Exerting everything he had

He regained eight or ten.

But trying so hard to catch the lead

He slipped and fell again!

Defeat! He lay there silently

A tear dropped from his eyes-

“ there’s no sense running anymore;

Three strikes: I am out! Why try!”

The will to rise had disappeared;

All hope had fled away;

So far behind, so error prone;

A loser all the way.

“ I have lost, so what’s the use, “he thought.

I’ll live with my disgrace.”

But then he thought about his dad

Who soon he’d have to face.

“Get up “an echo sounded low.

“Get up and take your place;

You are not meant to failure here

Get up and win the race”

“With borrowed will get up.” It said

‘You have not lost at all.

For winning is not more than this:

“To rise each time you fall.”

So up he rose to run once more,

And with a new commit.

He resolved that win or lose

At least he would not quit.

So far behind the others now.

The most held ever been-

Still he gave it all he had

And ran as though to win.

Three times he’d fallen, stumbling;

Three times he rose again;

Too far behind to hope to win

He still ran to the end

They cheered the winning runner,

As he crossed ht line first place,

Head high, and proud and happy;

No falling, no disgrace

But when the fallen youngster

Crossed the line last place.

The crowd gave him the greater cheers.

For finishing the race.

And even though he came in the last

With head bowed low, unproud,

You would have thought he’d won the race

To listen to the crowd.

And to his dad he sadly said,

“I did not do too well.”

“to me , you won, “ his father said.

“you rose each time you fell.”

And now when thing seem dark and hard

And difficult to face.

The memory of that  little boy

Helps me in my race.

For all of life is like that race

With ups and downs and all.

‘AND ALL YOU HAVE TO DO TO WIN

IS RISE EACH TIME YOU FALL’

POEM BY- DEE GROBERG