Walking barefoot—
a common past life for many,
a perfect reminder to adults of yesteryears.
Bare feet mean zero distance with the earth:
stones pricking,
mud squelching between the toes,
burning soil too hot to bear.
Every wound a direct injection to the body.
At the school parade, rows of bare feet stretched for inspection.
No mention of uncombed toes,
too dirty for shoes.
Play hour was full of barefoot players,
kicking the round ball, literally.
The teacher never complained.
The educator knew the feeling—
a past too raw to be forgotten.
No matter the neatness of uniform,
bare feet watered down the smartness.
Bare feet exposed lack,
a mirror of physical poverty to be hidden.
Shoeless cries were cries of want:
a want for better,
a want to chase the future.
Jiggers thrived on the untrimmed toe,
dirty, fertile ground to breed.
Yet—
barefoot children walked into adulthood,
grew into people of repute,
living to tell the tales.
Bare feet prepared the future,
out of a past of lack.