New Shoes, No Feet

Acquiring things without the substance of support is a tragedy.

There is a walk of lilt, a dance, a step,

A way of distinction, of confidence, of pep.

But woe there the man, the woman, the girl,

With Blahniks and Choos,  but no toes to curl. 

 

Come! What be the sight, the question, the clues,

Hear sonnet’s sad trauma, “No Feet, but New Shoes”.

T’was focus, not aim ‘caused physical err,

Left sad, the cripple, skewed hope, and bone bare.

 

Her feet bore the challenge, his feet held the clue,

In arms, held their strength, their eyes held their view.

They stumbled; they fell, headlong and entwined,

Immobiled, infirmed, incisioned, not kind.

 

Parted limbs, bloodied portions, deformed, made confused,

Unable to move, embittered, felt used.

Memory’s motions, impassioned with thoughts fleet of foot

Unable, not willing, to station, to root….

 

Then tomorrows will come with yesterday’s glue

Crying, ‘fear for the moment’ inviting the shoe

But bearing’s the hardest when standing’s forsook,

And standing’s impossible New Shoes and No foot.

 

Who cut off your hand, its limb after leg?

And stopped peace in process, its torrent, my segue

Will time heal emotions, yes pure and atone

But how mend, how fasten this heel to our home.