The Present

13 Feb



Grace gave me two odd shoes,

each beautifully different

from the other.

They almost fit,

at least, well enough.

I can’t walk while wearing both.

One is high, the other low,

so I must walk one foot shod,

the other exposed.

I must choose

which foot will be cold

and vigilant down to the naked toes.

When the sharp edges of

aloneness press

into the pad of my tender sole,

I wear one,

or the other,

to cushion some comfort,

to save some sting.

Because moving forward

is the only way down

this regretful ridge

past trees, to forest view.

Paths never seem smooth

or cut clearly

for these feet kissed with curiosity.


I must muster gratefulness

for these odd shoes.

They have walked me far,

and held my toes dear

even when one rubs reality raw or the other pinches the point.

It’s not their fault they don’t fit,

being made for the shape

of another’s foot.

Nor is it mine.

They’ll gladly wear me, instead.

One for desert dreaming,

one for snowy silence.

Am I a glutton for ingratitude

by yearning for a pair

made to house my feet home?

Right and left.

Is it so much to ask God

for simple shoes,

with supple strength

and yet, also

lightly laced

for dancing?


One Response to “The Present”

  1. Anonymous February 14, 2017 at 12:59 AM #

    Love it MK!

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