Gravity snowed your shoulders cold,
bent your burdened frame,
watched while troubles multiplied,
whispered words of shame;
Ascension climbed on trouble’s back,
chose the way of love –
soared above the blizzard where
forgiveness reigns above.
It’s not in the falling that mettle is made;
stumbling is common, the price to be paid
for walking this earth, where the footing’s unsure –
tectonics keep shifting (and there is no cure!)
It’s found in the rising, the clutching at straws,
the reaching for freedom when clamped in life’s jaws,
the struggle to stand upon feet that are sore,
ascension dimension when strength is no more.