The Lump

Outrunnable,

inescapable,

indestructible,

always listening, waiting,

maybe even hoping,

for a reason to be sad.

 

The lump in my throat,

it won't go away,

it's in me,

it is me,

I want to feel better,

better than I do,

but when is enough?

 

Surely I'll know, when the lump is gone,

so why isn't it?

I do feel better,

better than I did,

but it's not enough.

I'm not enough

to be bigger than my fears.

 

They tower like mountains,

I can only take one step at a time.

I shiver in the cold, gasping for air,

my muscles burn, my back aches.

I'm still going, but I'm not there yet.

Will I make it?

Will I be enough?

 

How can I find rest in the midst of turmoil,

peace in the midst of struggle,

joy in the midst of heartache,

courage in the midst of doubts,

hope in the midst of uncertainty,

strength when I feel fragile?

 

Of course, I've known all along.

If I know the fight it worth it,

I can breathe easy even when my heart races.

If I love those who hurt me,

there is nothing they can take away from me.

If I remember what little makes sense,

I find that it is enough to move me.

If I trust in the One who moves me,

I'll keep going, even though I can't see the destination.

If I keep making brave choices,

my fear can do nothing to lessen their impact.

 

The lump,

it's still there,

but I'm still climbing,

and I'm going to make it.

This poem is about: 
Me

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