No Room to Fall
There’s no room to fall when you’re called a man,
You must rise each time, no matter the plan.
You slip, you fail, you bruise your pride—
But strength, they say, must never hide.
You stumble once, they watch you close,
And label you what hurts the most.
One lost job, one broken dream—
You’re lazy now, or so they deem.
No space to doubt, no time to rest,
You’re expected always to give your best.
And if your knees begin to shake,
They’ll ask what shortcut you might take.
No margin granted, no grace applied,
Just pressure mounting deep inside.
You fake a smile, suppress the fears,
And build a dam to hold back tears.
For women fall and find a hand,
But men must rise and always stand.
“Be a rock,” they say, “be the wall,”
But rocks can crack—and walls can fall.
So you wear the armor, cold and thin,
While dying slow beneath your skin.
And heaven weeps where man won't speak—
His pain dismissed, his soul turned weak.
But there’s a Rock who knows it all,
Who sees the slips, who broke the fall.
Who knelt inside a garden’s cry,
And bore our burdens just to die.
So fall, dear man, but fall in grace.
Let God rebuild the hollow place.
The world won’t catch what it won’t see,
But Christ still whispers, “Lean on Me.”
This is a poem from the collection of Poems entitled "The Weight of Being A Man. A Poetic Journey Through Silent Battles, Unseen Scars, and Sacred Strength
