Bruising stones
mar the course
of the marathon I run.
Thorns and gnarly branches
tear at my sides, ruthless
holes hide in ambush.
There is no stadium
here, no cheering crowd,
no finish line in view. This
is the long race, the run
as long as life.
Run by my side
if you are my friend,
match your stride with mine
and lend your strength, run
until you feel the sting
of blisters on your feet,
and gasp for thinning air.
Run a mile or two
with me, share your visions
of the goal, tell me
I do not run
alone.
--Marilyn Black Phemister
Copyright 1994 by
The Mennonite
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