On those days

When my days hand me uphills and stumbles
when my nights shake me awake at 2am
and when ticking time refuses to wait,
I look as far as eyes can reach
along the line of the shore, the mountains,
and out to the people walking against the wind,
each step taken in the belief that forward
is worth the struggle.

There might come a day when it is not enough;
when hard is hard no matter how you push at it,
mold it, try to find a way around it,
every moment feeling like the mental is the physical
and vice versa, not mattering whether
it was a metaphorical or real door
that was slammed in your face,
because the gust of rejection and the bang of finality
feel the same either way.

And on these days I want you to remember
that your slammed door is someone else's crumbling home
that your scraped knee is someone else's crippled life
that your tears are someone else's tsunami
and that all will move on, forward, as it always does -
and that so much feels better with someone there
to pull you onward, push you past immobility
and into tomorrow.