Treading On The Heights

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

With small hands

New, trusting, innocent hands

He holds on.

He wraps his tiny fingers around a larger one.

Firm and sturdy.

Patient and faithful.

 

His eyes do not waver

Fixed on a face that is brighter.

 

Bringing his foot a few inches forward

He is powerless without the strong hands

That are gently pulling him closer.

 

Unsteady steps.

One foot falling in front of the next

As if he was born for it.

He is gliding.

Then, a crooked step, he drops to the floor.

 

He is pulled up with a shriek of delight

“You’ve done it!”

You’ve done it.

 

***

 

With empty hands now

Steps are not as smooth.

 

Teetering and tumbling –

This is frequent but forgiven.

 

Although sturdy fingers must

Let go

They never simply

Go.

The bright face is watching.

And rejoicing.

 

Four steps before falling.

Now five

And then Seven.

 

Each step strengthens the next.

This

Is confidence.

This

Is endurance.

This

Is growth.

 

***

 

With dirty hands now

Holding sticks that are transformed into swords

And rubber spiders and real snakes.

 

And now, holding a leg that has broken

Rocking back and forth

Letting tears remain on his cheeks

Until someone with a brighter face wipes them clean.

 

A long fall.

A messy landing.

 

He will not walk for some time.

No steps.

He must heal.

 

***

 

With sturdy hands now.

Wise and patient.

Trusted by a pair of tiny, innocent hands

That hold on.

 

He presses his fingertips against

The warm blacktop.

 

Eyes close for a moment

And he breathes deeply

 

Before launching himself from the starting blocks.

 

His legs have grown healthy and strong –

Rarely stumbling

Rarely mis-stepping

And when they do,

The next step follows so quickly,

Crookedness is unnoticeable

Insignificant

Forgotten

 

 

His heart beats stronger with every stride.

His lungs fill and empty.

The rhythm of his footsteps.

 

There is one with a bright face

Standing along the fence.

 

Whose heart is pumping

Whose breath is racing

Whose muscles are tightening.

 

He is running!

He is running.

 

Smooth and powerful

Forward forever.

 

And hurtling through the tape to victory

He hears a bright voice - 

“You’ve done it!”

You’ve done it.

 
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