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The Race

It often feels like I've gotta be one step ahead, but I can't be. No matter how fast I run there are people faster than me. My feet will pound the pavement until my heart pounds my blood and I will still be running in other people's dust.

Have you been there? Have you been in the race?

If you can’t hear me stay silent but if you can scream. Scream like all the others who are running in the race and who are blind like you and me to what we share with our sprained ankles, sore calves, and hurt knees. If you can hear me stop, and I'll stop, two steps in lag.

Do you know the race? The sweat that curdles to become the victor.

If you are willing, please stop and help the fallen runner. Trip on your shoes and let them pass. Let those who burn behind you win the medallion. Scorn the ones ahead, every stride a thievery of somebody else's fame.

With all the muscles I could tone and all the shoes that I could gather there are still those who look better than me in a pair of pumps as they pass me on the track. One step ahead I can’t be, and I, I am sorry if I ever took your place.

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