Ode to my feet that keeps me standing,
to each of the pillars that never gave up caring when the world was mine to hold,
to the tall mountain trees that push against the storms,
and to the masts that hold against my troubled seas,
ode to the dirt on my toes and the scars with their stories untold,
I am writing an ode to the very best friends and the caress of your warm hands,
poetry for the lonely, a language for the few,
an ode to the sand steps washed up by the rain,
to the names I cannot pronounce, to the numbers and the unexpected…
Ode to my feet that walked upon your shadow,
to the bones and the muscles that kept me standing,
to every fiber and nerves and the vessels that did not shrink when fear cornered me,
ode to my feet that against my best intentions brought me closer to your dream
and did not break away when I touched the lips
and did not skip a beat when I did another deed,
ode to the plants that I squashed when I danced,
to the ants and the plans
and the past upon which I pressed heavy boots to pass
one thought closer,
two steps nearer to the dream I never hoped to hold…
Ode to my feet that keeps me standing,
ode to the gift,
ode to the heat…