On my way out into the yard (always the yard) I slip over the threshold. Shoes slipped on subconsciously. Imprinted habits stored somewhere unknown. At the cliff below the lip of the threshold a pile of shoes and their rubbery texture break my fall but they’re in the way. They’re always in the way. A tangled bunch of laces, knots and, aglets so much complicated than my pair of flip flops. I consciously step on the pile. Maybe out of spite, anger. With this motion completed, I look down at my own shoes only to see that they’re on the wrong feet. Yet, as wrong as it may seem, I leave them as they are.

shoes bathe my soles
with sunlight borrowed
(i’d left them in the atrium)

It’s like I’m walking
Home from school,
Counting the houses
That look the same.

It’s like I’m skipping
The cracks again,
Humming the tune
Inside of my head.

It’s like my shoe laces
Keep coming undone
No matter how much
I tie them up.

I pick at the thread
Hanging off of my sweater,
Not bothering to bend down
And double-knot.

And then when I trip,
I sit
And wonder
Why.

You were so tough because you had to be
It was so rough but it didn’t have to be
But guilt won’t get me anywhere
You built me into who I am and who I wanted to be
Thank you for the strength that carried me through
Thank you for the ways you buried the pain to grow something new
You knew there’d be a better day
Knew there was a better way
To live without being alone
There’s so much you could’ve shown me but I’m grateful
That you knew my limitations
Knew what I could take and what would overtake me
You knew that some of the truth later revealed might break me
So I thank me
You’re a part but you’ll always be part of me
I’ll always be thankful that you carried me through
When all I knew was miles and miles and a worn pair of running shoes
You knew I was worth more
That there was something good in store but in the moment all I felt was sore

Where my feet have not trod
no earthly trace of foot or shoe
has marked this sleepy lawn still wet with dew
no early birds peck breakfast at their ease
no gossiping wind to whisper through the trees
a day with all its mysteries
still to tease

these are my coward shoes
we have walked many a mile
leaving trouble behind
unafraid to lose

they are comfortable and warm
with a slight smell of deceit
to be a coward you lie
keeping your happy feet

Soles of white dusty red shoes,
Old laces, and pieces of plastic on the tips,
Newspapers to add space in a mediocre label,
Fake Vans, that ironically says, ‘Original’
In place of that brand’s tag.

Red, and reliable like the last piece of value,
In a house of not many valuable things.
Except the memories of the places I’ve walked,
Bruising my ******* jamming my back heel,
Into a rather than tight new pair.

“These are supposed to be size nines”

As like the age my foot grew longer than I did,
Taking every corner before I did. Indicating loudly,
Which next turn I’m going to take.

Truly shy of my foot without the covering protection,
Of a common shoe. Don’t judge how far I’ve been,
By the measure of the state of my shoes.

I haven’t been that far...

Though I would like to have,
To foreign places like the land I bought my shoes.

Today I had to throw them away,
Which felt like I threw away...

A piece of a memory,
A piece of my wealth,
A piece of myself,
A piece of favourite clothing,

Worn so proudly on my feet.
Farewell to my reliable old red shoes...Sigh!