To be published in the Castle's literary magazine, The Black Swan!
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These feet have been blistered, burned, frozen, and beaten, but
they have never let me down. These feet are calloused and scared, cracked
and worn, and I wear them as a badge for my bravery. These feet have scraped the bottom of too
many pools to count and been thrown into the air by the angry surge of the
Atlantic Ocean. These feet have been
bullied and bloodied, but they have endured enough and they know that they
deserve a real pedicure every now and again.
These feet have climbed to the tops of towers and belfries, pressed the
gas pedal to the floor, and stood in Lac Léman in Geneva. These feet itch and stink – itch for
movement, stink of victorious sweat in sensible shoes. These feet have irregularly cut toenails and
bumps and scars and aches and pains that tell the story of my travels and
survivals. These feet have braved hot
sand and rain puddles. These feet
stretch and bend, kneaded under tired fingers, before the throbbing in the
darkness of another dreamless night.
These feet carry me on walking tours and through museums; they’ve
touched marble and stone and grass the world over. These feet have carried me to my dreams,
screaming in agony but never backing down.
These feet are ugly and tough and ruined, and they have never
faltered. These feet luxuriate in damp
boots and wool blankets alike. These
feet will never let me stop moving.
