Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Pigs, chickens, goats, ducks, geese, turkeys;
feed them all.

Always as a girl she walked without shoes.
She played in the mud and yet was still beautiful.
Up and down she chased that boy.
The painter boy;
the one who did not all that much care for mud.

The big man with the heavy boots stopped coming here;
many years ago he stopped.
The three ladies with the pointy shoes came then.
I became ridden with new holes  and dips daily.
I became even more worn and torn up.

One would think I spent all my time with the likes of chickens;
continuously pecking and clawing and picking.
Ripping me away from myself layer by layer.

Mostly I waited;
waited for all of them to just leave.
Leave her to her farm.
To her animals.
To her life.

One night,
just as the sun decided to sleep,
she left; slipping away.
The ladies with the pointed shoes were gone.
She was leaving too.

But mercy!
Her feet were not bare and her calluses were hidden.
I knew soon life for us all would change.
For on her feet there was something new.

Glass slippers soft as silk caressed my face.
The hems of white satin and silk slipped over my eyes carefully.
She was afraid but anticipation shook her breath,
and weighed her feet.
I wished her luck and sent warm prayers up through me.

I waited patiently,
the rain pounded rudely upon me and
the night raced on.
It held feelings of pain but also of hope,
and I waited.

After humiliation and hurt passed,
carrying defiance and anger with them,
joy and happiness exploded in the air
as forgiveness spread silently around.
Satisfaction crept slyly in and decided to stay.

With petty arrogance the three of them pranced;
down the steps and across my face, stabbing me
with every new step.
They laughed and taunted and gossiped,
reveling in what splendor they thought they had,
and the royalty they believed they deservedly were to receive.
With false fragility they were lifted into the coach
where they sat with straight backs, gloved hands, bejeweled
everywhere they could be...

The ladies with the pointed shoes didn’t come back.
No, but she did.
Of course she did, she had to say
So long for now, even though
every once and awhile she’d be back.

Now someone else would tend the pigs,
the chickens, the goats and ducks and geese and turkeys.
Someone else with calloused feet and a ragged dress
would walk me over each morning.
But I didn’t care.
I smiled, that is, if dirt can do such things.
Cause as sure as anything in the world,
she was happy.