Hurdles
My legs are cramping—
lactic acid overpowering my calves
as I attempt to lob myself
over another hurdle.
Pain is progress,
they tell me,
so I keep moving
onto the next,
heaving with each rise and fall,
increasing my tolerance as I go.
I trip, stumble,
feel the scrapes in slow motion
as my skin peels back
and the ache sets in.
I don’t cry, I just reflect.
I have never been good at hurdles.
My time on the ground
gives me a chance to look around—
realize that I am all alone.
Look ahead, look back.
Why am I out here?
I pick myself up,
slowly trudge up the stadium steps.
They're steep and I’m sore
but it will be worth it—
to find perspective in the stands,
to leave when the sun goes down,
to find a new path
that doesn’t leave me falling
over and over
in an endless ring
of pain and levity.
....
Posted Jul 19, 2021, 9:06 PM UTC
We all have our personal struggles, and we both know it helps to write. If you seek it, you’ll find joy.
Great words, well done.