Monday, July 25, 2011


Feet are a hidden landscape.

On dying, the old woman’s feet 
were exposed for the first time 
to her unbelieving family.

Years of anquish and quiet suffering were writ large,
with toes curled into unbelievable glyphs of worthiness and pain. 

Grand daughters took off shoes     
to read the softness of youth, 
while their mothers stood on silent feet,
hoping for more years of painful walking—
for long enough to learn if it was worth the cost.  

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