Shoe
The right has only one option,
as is true of the left,
neither to mingle
nor disappear like washed socks
or loved ones in a casino.
There are those who believe
in fallen towers and pasts
burnished beyond recognition,
and truth, as it was written, for them,
in blood, with money inherited
from thieves. The puddle happens.
The door rotates. A snifter shatters.
The shoe’s approach defines its wearer.
* * *
This first appeared in March 2016, but somehow seems even more appropriate today.
O at the Edges 
Beautifully written and so philosophical.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks very much, Lucy. Much appreciated.
LikeLike
Lately I’ve been walking in “Water-logged” boots
Neighbours hear them squelch, over the owl hoots
LikeLiked by 2 people
Stay dry!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m afraid we seem to be living under a heavy atmosphere…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh, most certainly. Ours has been heavy with dread, but it’s lightening a bit.
LikeLiked by 1 person
And I’m thinking this pair of shoes needs to find a common path that lifts up everyone.
LikeLiked by 2 people
I believe this too!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’ll be honest. Robert, the last half of the poem I didn’t get but the first five lines ate stunning in their specificity
LikeLiked by 3 people
Thanks, John. I’m pleased that the first part worked for you.
LikeLike
Oh, that’s good! I had to read the last part twice, but that’s probably because I habitually scan/speedread….
LikeLiked by 2 people
I’m so pleased it was worth reading again. Thank you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
😉
LikeLike
Reblogged this on The Cheesesellers Wife and commented:
Another great poem from Robert Ojaki. It’s relevant to both the USA and UK today:
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thanks so much for reblogging this.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’re welcome.
LikeLiked by 1 person