Lift thy tortured hands
Oh thou puny insignificant man
Let thy voice ring, in triumph defy
The scorching sun of the wild sky.
The raging wind cant hold you down
The warrior spark in thee is found
Rain, sleet and snow may fall
But thou wilt fight on through all
Climb and fight thou will
Even though the odds make thee ill
Though thou bare thy teeth
Though thy eyes be so dry they cannot weep
Though thy muscles ache and burn
‘tween victory and defeat discern
And as thou conquer raise thy hands high
Lift them up to the wild sky
Story behind the poem:
This poem was written several months ago, and is about cycling. I’ll quickly go through what is described here. Lifting one’s hands is about victory. You see them all the time, when a cyclist finishes a race, he raises his hands to the sky. For me, it’s a personal victory, usually after a long day of work and I finally climb the last hill (did I mention that where I live is ridiculously hilly?) on my way home.
All the elements mentioned, were to drive home what cyclists ride in. Cyclists are exposed to extremes. Either the heat or the cold. If it’s wet, so are we. Cycling is a sport of exposure.
The final description is about cracking or hitting the wall. (look it up if you want to know more) My sign of cracking? My teeth bare. That’s a pretty good sign that I’m coming to the end of my leash. Dry eyes is about the wind. Even though I wear glasses when riding, your eyes tend to dry out, and after rides in windy weather, I usually come home with eyes that are so dry that you cannot cry. And do I need to explain why the muscles burn? lol.