The Prize Poem by Danny Speicher

Prize beyond this present uphill battle
Shields crash together and sabers rattle
Pain and loneliness present on this field
For, in the end, alone, your blade, you wield

Oft the struggle threatens to overtake
And too often my heart is left to break
I will question the merit of this march
I will fall and bleed, with thirsty lips parched

But, just when I raise my horn to retreat
The goal and prize, my gaze rises to meet
And, again pick up my shield and my sword
And pray, once more, to my Savior and Lord

'Make my feet swift and please make my heart strong,
Let my mind find peace to help me along
May my gaze naught move from the prize ahead
And not rest 'til I reach it or I'm dead.'

Amen

((July 1st,2010))