Against all odds we run our race
each at his own God-given pace,
be that pace swift as a gazelle
or tortoise in its heavy shell,
we run toward victory's embrace.
The goals we set, the dreams we chase
by limitations aren't erased,
for in the effort we excel
against all odds.
Defeat's a word that has no place
within a life that bears no trace
of cowardice, so say farewell
to doubts that deep within you dwell
and run with gusto, grit and grace
against all odds.
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Author Notes
Please see my last two posts for an explanation of the rondeau form.
As I am posting this, the memorial mass is being held for Eunice Kennedy Shriver, who founded the Special Olympics over forty years ago. This poem is dedicated to her, to all Special Olympians who run that race at their own pace, and to everyone who makes the effort to live life to the fullest, fueled by faith.
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