The Race.

Quit; give up; you are beaten they shout at me and plead
there is just too much against you, 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 weakening will as I recall that scene
for just the fall of that short race rejuvenates my being

A children’s race, young men, young boys, 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 get second place

And fathers watched from off the side, each cheering for his son
and each boy hope to show his dad that he would be the one

The white blew and off they went, young hearts and hopes of fire
to win and be the here there, was the young boys’ 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 speeded down the field across the shallow dip
the little boy who thought to win lost his step and slipped

Trying hard to catch himself, his hands flew out to brace
amid the laughter of the crowd he fell flat on his face

So down he fell and with him the hope, he could not win it now
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 is all
and ran with all his mind and might to make up for his fall

So anxious to restore himself to catch up and win
his mind went faster than his legs, he slipped and fell again

He wished then he had quit the race with only one disgrace
I am hopeless as a runner, now I should not try to race

But in the laughing crowd he searched and found his father’s face
the steady looks and said again, “get up and win the race”

So 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 gained 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 eye
There is no sense in running any more, 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 is the use, he thought, I will live with my disgrace
But then he thought about his dad who soon he had have to face

“Get up”, an echo from the crowd sounded low, “get up and take your place”
You were not meant for failure here, get up and win the race,

With borrowed will, get up”, it said, “you have not lost it all,
For winning is no more than this, get up 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

Far behind the others now, the most he had ever been
Still he gave it all he had and ran as though to win

Three times he had fallen, stumbling, three times he rose again,
Too far behind to hope to win, he still ran to the end

They cheering the winning runner as he crossed the line
First place, head high and proud and happy, no failing, no disgrace

But when the falling youngster crossed the line last place
The crowd gave him the greater cheer for finishing the race

And even though he came in last, with head bowed low, un - proud
you would have thought he had won the race, by listening to the crowd

And to his dad, he sadly said, "I did not do so well".
"to me, you won" his father said, "you rose each time you fell"

And now, when things seem dark and hard and difficult to face
The memory of that little boy helps me in my own race

For all of like is like that race, with ups and downs and all
And all you have to do to win is, "rise each time you fall"

Quit; give up; you are beaten, they still shouted in my face,
But another voice within me says, "get up and win the race"


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/ DS /