Bodies tell stories.
The boot is on the right foot.
It lifts up the right side.
It tilts the body left.
The left leg shortened,
for a short while;
long enough for the right
heel to heal the heil.
The right heel steals balance.
The right heal steals my right
to take walks, plant seeds,
to talk with ease, laugh aloud.
The right heel pains me,
isolates me,
leaves me motionless.
Soon, the boot will be off.
Therapy will begin to complete
the healing needed to stop
the pain in the heel, and heal the heil.
The extra weight will be lifted.
Both feet will balance the gait
of a body ready to move forward,
beyond the lies, beyond the hate.
Time to heal, if patience allows.
I ask so little it seems;
and yet, too much for now.
Now, when words destroy bonds
formed from shared adversity,
in fear of diversity and loss of power.
I stumble through the day, booted
by the weight of the jack boot
on a leg that has born too much weight
of too much fear, too heavy a hate.
And still, despite the added weight
and uneven gait, I march on,
in my own, stilted way,
on this President’s,
not King’s,
Day.
annarino writes 