The Race

I wrote this poem as I struggled to deal with the passing of my husband.

I had a true love once, and forever we’ll be one,
Now he is waiting for the race I must run,
Alone I stride through wind and storm and rain,
Each step filled with sorrow, each mile laced with pain.
Everyday I’m stronger; at least I used to think,
But now the burden’s heavy, it causes me to shrink.
I lean upon the savior; it’s the peace that gets me through,
In my head I chant, “I will go and do”
I focus on the kingdom, my Father and His love,
Through service of my fellow men, I’ll reach his courts above.
The uphill climb is scary, lonely and so steep,
Every time I fall “help me Father” I weep.
The cuts and bruises that now shape my very being,
Each has a painful story full of hurt and sting.
As the road winds on, slopes and hills alike,
I find myself thankful for the chance to take the hike.
For the body that sustains me, and song that gets me through,
For every day I have to spend becoming closer to you.
The cuts and bruises heal and quickly fade away,
Leaving scars of remembrance that I carry day to day.
All lessons from the path that will lead me to his grace,
He’ll hold me once again when I finish my race.

Teresa Malachowski Krolak