The way you walk

The child walked barefoot

No shoes.

The child rubbed grit, well borne

From the soles of her feet

From the soul

No shoes.

The child stopped to pull thorns

From the tender leathery spine

Of her feet, so neat

No shoes.

The child hesitated to walk through

The sparkling ice-sharp wastes

Of the glen, she moved on

Again and again

No shoes.


No shoes.

Transcendent, defiant


No shoes.

◄ Snow place to cone

Iris ►


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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Fri 17th Dec 2010 13:03

This has great beauty of idea and poetic presentation. I find it very spiritual, like a parable.

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Laura Taylor

Thu 16th Dec 2010 14:08

Can almost see her...

Loved this

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Marianne Louise Daniels

Thu 16th Dec 2010 13:46

an incredible moving piece.

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