Stragglers

I watched the runners racing by,
The leaders like gazelles;
And hours later came the stragglers
In their living hells.

The early racers had the crowds
All cheering their support.
For those still chugging on at dusk,
Such comforting fell short.

The packs in front had sunshine,
Water, camera crews and food,
Keeping smiles and spirits soaring
In that moving multitude.

So the slowest marathoners
Get the raw end of the deal:
No spectators or sustenance –
I wonder how they feel.

As long as they keep slogging, though,
It doesn’t really matter.
They didn’t think they’d get their medals
On a silver platter.

And yet my heart goes out to them –
Determined and still racing,
Despite the hunger, cold and darkness
That they must be facing.

Let’s hear it for the stragglers,
Whose hope does not diminish.
Perhaps that will be just enough
To get them to the finish.