Rejoice, whatever

In one of his many letters, he wrote: Rejoice!
Just in case they didn’t get the message, he repeated:
Rejoice! Then, to top it all, he wrote encouragingly,
Don’t be anxious about anything ...
Surprising to learn that when he wrote of joy
he was in prison (probably in Rome)
anticipating, not a cheerful, golden old age,
but probable death by beheading (decapitation) — which indeed it was. So how about the joy?
Watching the thousands of people running in today’s city Marathon — many of them exhausted, hardly able to walk upright,
feet dragging, bodies trembling, sweat running down —
why do they struggle on?
For a paper certificate? For the pride in being able to boast:
I stuck it to the end?
Or, once home, comfortably seated with a drink in the hand,
to feel free of tomorrow’s care — the race is run,
the battle is over, nothing more to fear.
So what did he mean, telling them to rejoice?
or that no one could take this joy from them?
A living hope: he was persuaded that nothing —
then comes the list, like a drumroll, gradually crescendoing —
nothing in heaven or earth, nor anything that is —
can separate him from the love that he has found
through learning about the life of Jesus Christ.
Today people are often afraid to name their dearest love.
Paul was not.