The Runner

Faded memories of life's cruel jokes
Echo laughter inside his head.
He can't help but wonder
Who'll care when he's dead.
His soul is in constant torture
By demons from his past.
He thought he could outrun them,
But he's coming in last.
Falling behind in this race called life,
Somehow he has to gain way.
Doggedly, he counts the steps
Only to lose another day.
A strong voice from high above-
One he once knew too well-
Speaks out to him sternly
Words that add wind to his sail.
"My son, stop running from the past;
Release what's dead and gone.
Place your sights on the future,
Which is only yours to own."
He bowed his weary head
And took a ragged breath.
Whispering a prayer of thanks,
He knew he had just outrun death.
Remember, its better to be the stalker
Than to be the prey.
Always chase your dreams
Or your nightmares will win the day.

Lisa Rodenberry
2004