photo: Dora Kazmierak www.instagram.com/dorakazmierak/
Who plots our life stories each new day?
What role are we expected to play?
Draining dramas, heart whip-flayed.
Why placed in such painful places?
Unfit athlete, pushed through paces
– please don’t include in any races*.
Who’s the author? What’s their name?
To whom may I apportion this blame?
What resolution, conclusion claim?
Pitiless that pack-punched fist,
discomfort un-required, I insist
– did I decline any ‘agape’ kiss?
Must my heart grovel, appease?
Supposedly-soft, squeeze and see;
conflicts batter, buckled weak knees.
Black clouds hint loud thunderclap
– suddenly, sunshine falls into lap,
unexpected mercy, gold gift-wrapped.
* You’ve all been to the stadium and seen the athletes race. Everyone runs; one wins. Run to win. All good athletes train hard. They do it for a gold medal that tarnishes and fades. You’re after one that’s gold eternally. 1 Corinthians 9:24-25