Mahalia _

An edited version of a poem attributed to Dr. D.H. "Dee" Groberg

Whenever I start to hang my head in front of failure’s face,
My downward fall is broken by the memory of a race.

They all lined up so full of hope, each thought to win that race
or tie for first, or if not that, at least take second place.

One boy in particular, was running in first place

But suddenly he lost his step and fell flat, upon his face.

As he fell, his hope fell too; he couldn’t win it now.
Humiliated, he wished and wished to disappear somehow.

But as he stood and grimaced, showed his anxious face,
a voice so clearly in his head said, “Keep going, win that race!”

He quickly rose, no damage done, behind a bit that’s all,
and ran with all his mind and might to make up for his fall.

So anxious to restore himself, to catch up and to win,
his mind went faster than his legs. He slipped and fell again.

He wished that he had quit before with only one disgrace.
“I’m hopeless as a runner now, I shouldn’t try to race.”

But through the laughing crowd he heard that little voice again,

 “Get up and win that race! You mustn’t quit, give in!”

Exceeding everything he had, he regained eight, then ten...
but trying hard to catch the lead, he slipped and fell again.
Defeat! He lay there silently. A tear dropped from his eye.
“There’s no sense running anymore! Three strikes I’m out! Why try?
I’ve lost, so what’s the use?” he thought. “I’ll live with my disgrace.”
But then he thought about his life, and who he’d have to face.

“Get up,” an echo sounded low, “you haven’t lost at all,
for ALL YOU HAVE TO DO TO WIN IS RISE EACH TIME YOU FALL.

Get up!” the echo urged him on, “Get up and take your place!
You were not meant for failure here! Get up and win that race!”

Three times he’d fallen stumbling, three times he rose again.
Too far behind to hope to win, he still ran to the end.

They cheered the boy who crossed the line, winning the first place, head high and proud and happy -- no falling, no disgrace.

But, when the fallen youngster crossed, running in last place,
the crowd gave him a greater cheer for finishing the race.

And to those watching the little boy said, “I didn’t do so well.”
But those who knew, said back to him “You rose each time you fell.”

And even though he came in last with head bowed low, unproud,
you would have thought he’d won the race, to listen to the crowd.