Hi....I wanted to share this with you all.
My 15 yr old ,Victoria had to write a paper on something that effected her profoundly.
She opened her paper with this poem.
THE RACE
Waiting, waiting, and more waiting
Anticipating for the race to be over
The hands and running laps around the clock
So many laps,
endless numbers.
As my hands run I am the one who is sweating.
Sweating because of the lingering.
Sweating because of the laps.
Hoping and praying that the hands will stop running,
that the race will be over.
Drop,
Drop
My face becomes wet,
this timee from my eyes
the tears pour out so fast,
uncontrollable and unstoppable.
Fear and worry have overwhelmed my body.
They control my tears
They control the running.
As the hands zoom around another lap,
The tears come faster and faster.
The race is about to start.
Everyone came to cheer on The Runner,
Family, friends and complete strangers.
The Runner trained long and hard.
She is as ready as she will ever be.
Her sneakers tied tightly,
her number pinned securely to her loose fitting top.
The flag was swung.
The had begun.
Slap,
Slap,
As her wore down sneakers hit the pavement.
Her breath steady and slow,
as the sweat rolls down her cheek.
Her eyes set on one thing,
crossing the finish line in first place.
Watching the race makes tears weep from my eyes.
I am tired.
Tired of crying and tired of running.
Then all of a sudden the hands came to a halt.
The waiting is finally over.
The Runner sprints across the finish line.
The crowd screaming in delight.
We witness what we have been waiting for,
What I have been crying for,
What the clock was running for.
I see her face but the tears still don't stop.
They turn into gleeful and grateful tears.
Gradified that The Runner is okay.
Grateful the race is over.
This is from the mind of a 15 yr old, looking back in time 3 yrs ago , when I had my decompression.
Thanks for taking the time to read this.
Peace,
Lori