Strength is keeping my head straight,
moving on, never second guessing fait.
Pride is going even when knowing.
Courage is going even with the fear of not knowing.
I throw myself forward, move myself along.
My feet never fail me; but what if my direction is wrong?
What if my strength cannot grasp
failure — to chance never leaving the past.
I run away to be free,
to detach from the grief you’ve given me.
But maybe not turning around is a chance I might miss.
Maybe my strength, all along, is my weakness.