Here you will find
poetry to stimulate your thoughts and feelings. Poetry that can
take you inside, to reflect on your life. A unique gift
will be the rare opportunity to hear directly from the poet, who
has been asked to write a brief commentary on why they wrote what
they did; what the poem means to them. Enjoy . . . and allow the
poet and the poetry to challenge you to seek greater
awareness.
Different Lanes
by
Jim Gruenewald
I ran in my own lane, knowing you were
in yours.
Aware of your small prideful strides loosing ground to my own.
Your lungs not able to pump the strength needed to keep up.
But your eyes and heart desired more,
Seeing only the big man whose pace was too hard to
follow.
I ran in my own lane, knowing you were in
yours.
My lungs and legs still strong.
But now another pair fiercely running alongside.
The pleasurable push of one who is a peer.
No longer one, but two big men,
Whose pace, sets joy in their faces and hearts.
I run in my own lane, knowing you are in
yours.
My strides shorten with age, turning slower as strength
recedes.
Muscle and joint can not bear as much.
The finish line closer than ever before,
Yet no quick or painless path to it.
My closing laps become the beginning of many more for
you.
Running in my lane, there in a turn, seeing
you pass me by,
Like a whip, snapped into a lane that knows a speed I never
had.
Every step now quicker and stronger than mine.
My lungs not able to pump the strength able to keep up.
But eyes and heart that see a growing man,
Whose pace is being set, and I only need to watch and
cheer.
The Poet
Comments:
I have always loved running. It comes as no
accident that my three homes have been within a short jog of a
track. It is not unusual for me to examine and even run on a track
that I come upon when I travel. It has a sort of sacredness for
me. For I know that I am most alive when I run and am in
relationship, and I believe that a track is one of God's tangible
reminders to me of a corner of his kingdom on earth. It is a place
and a sport where individuals can find the event best suited for
them in which to perform. There, one can find faith, joy, pain,
energy, talent, community, success and failure, as well as the
building of character and relationship.
I believe there are others like me who feel
the same about this quarter mile oval. I know one such person is
my oldest son, who I love more than running. The inspiration for
this poem started some twenty years ago when I went to the track
to do a pace run. Chris, then three, wanted to go with me. We
walked to the track and as I began to run, he began as well. The
first time I passed him, he was smiling, and I wondered if he
would soon loose interest and stop like any normal three year old.
He didn't. To my amazement he kept going for six laps (a mile and
a half). As only a proud and over involved father could, I dreamt
of possibly having a future Olympian. He didn't become one, but
there was a future bond for the two of us through our love of
running.
We shared many accomplishments with regards
to running, more his than mine. However, nothing is more valuable
than the lessons and insights about life and relationship that we
gained from running. I learned how I, as a father, needed to
accept his growing up and appropriately change my role and
involvement in his life. As I watched him run, I learned to
appreciate his unique abilities, separate from my own, which went
beyond running and included the qualities of a maturing man. Most
importantly, I discovered how essential it is for me to move out
of his way, to not slow him down, so he is free to grow even more.
Finally, I now see how much it is my duty to honor and acclaim the
race, or mission, God has given him to live.
So, out of my love for running and my love
for Chris came the following verses. Because I still run and will
continue being a dad, I suppose there will be future stanzas. But
for now, the poem stands as it is. May it remind you of your
unique "track" where you can find your lane and pace as
well.
Past offerings are found
below. Enjoy.
All of Me
Here I stand like the scepter fashioned from the wood of a
dying tree.
Beautiful life, vibrant and colorful, flowing from my core,
still covered in coarse outer layers and death.
Twisted, wounded and scarred by life's elements,
I await the touch of the master's hand.
He sees me as I yet cannot, fully and completely, as a beautiful
piece,
just as I have always been.
Here in the hands of the craftsman the time has come for my beauty to
be known,
for I now choose to separate from the dying tree.
His knife, razor sharp, cuts quickly through the loose layers of
death
as he follows the twisted contours of life
that wrap intimately around my gnarled wounds and scars.
A gentle artist, he slowly cuts deeper, and painfully death falls
away
as life comes to the surface, never violating the outer layers,
wounds, and scars
that now hold fast as a part of me.
For the master works with what I, the piece, have always been and
have now become.
My dark outer layers, painfully coarse, rugged and exposed are fully
mine,
an integral component of my authenticity and beauty.
So here I stand the revealed scepter,
strong, yet still vulnerable,
powerful, yet not without weakness,
brilliantly colorful, yet dark and disfigured,
smooth, and yet still coarse,
wonderfully joyful, yet not without deep sorrow,
alive, yet not completely free of death.
Here I stand, unlike any time before, embracing and owning,
All of Me.
Terry Albaugh
May 21, 1997
The Poet
Comments:
"All of Me" was my
first poem. What a surprise to have poetry flow out of me, one who
had been so linear all his life. This poem came as a result of
doing shame work during a group therapy session. For the first
time, I had stared down some of the shame I carried around, and
found something different. It was life. I was inspired to go to
the forest, select a piece of wood, and carve a "scepter of life"
that you see above. Out of that process this poem evolved.
Initially, I did not grasp the fullness or depth of the words I
had penned, nor did I realize that it would become the driving
theme behind my therapeutic work. It was not until later that I
came to understand that what I was fighting for was to find and
regain, all of me. Settling for anything less would not be
enough.
I was aware of the words I
had written, yet I did not understand the depth and the degree to
which I would have to "choose to separate from the dying tree" and
leave behind the old dead ways I had been clinging too. I did not
understand the depth of the pain that God would have me choose to
walk through. I did not comprehend the degree to which I would
have to choose to allow Him to gently carry me to new places as He
cut away the old. I was so unaware of just how much of my life
truly needed to be revealed. Revealed first and foremost to me, as
well as to others. I desperately needed to see my truth. To fully
own and embrace, down to the core of my being, all that was true
about me, my life and who I am.
I wrote this poem early in
my journey, without comprehending how profound or prophetic the
words were. Yet it was the outline for all that was to come in the
years ahead. By God's amazing grace He is still the gentle artist
who today keeps peeling away the layers of death that are wrapped
around me. I believe that God keeps working on and in me during
this lifetime journey so that I might live life with the
magnificent fullness of "all of me" for His purpose, glory
and praise. May He grant you similar courage to embrace . . . all
of you.