I went to the river, down below.
I defied orders, going where I ought not go.
I was caught in a mess somewhere in between
My wounded self here and the mountain where I need to be.
Higher ground was the land I was aiming for.
I should’ve known it wasn’t my fate to soar,
To win, to succeed, to be on top.
It was always that voice in my head that made me stop—
Stop dead in my tracks along the riverside,
Wounded, tired, willing to give up the fight.
The choice in my head kept pushing me over the edge.
I wouldn’t let it win, so I got up instead.
With that same defiance that landed me here,
I climbed up from my shame, disregarding my fears.
I stood back up at the top of that hill.
That was only the easy part: but now, I won’t stand still.
Ded. Perseverance
