Try walking a mile in my shoes!
Ever thought what that means?
Used so much in times of hardship but the reality
Of the statement has decreased in value it seems.
To wear my shoes isn't just to see what I've
Been through but to get to know me.
To understand me. Who I am, Defined
By these insignificant soles below me.
I go to the track and my trainers tell
The story of weight lost, ability gained.
The story of the pain and sometimes blood,
paying the cost of victory, whether in sun or rain.
As I run to the track instead of taking a bus,
They tell the story of not having money
But, atop the podium of success, they tell the
Story of humbleness while tasting victory sweet like honey.
The story of my street trainers is different.
They walk past the playgrounds in my neighbourhood,
Smiling with the children and parents at play
And then pass Burger King, where the smell and the flavour's good!
They tell the stories of children being
Scolded in the grocery store
And of the sidewalks of Waikiki, a strange blend
Of the rich and the poor.
All sharing that balmy Pacific breeze
Because nature belongs to us all
There's no price on the stories of my shoes,
Stories big and stories small.
The stories of my smart shoes.
Late nights and church mornings.
Sprinting down Oxford Street
To catch the N15 bus,
Knowing they run one-an-hour
So catching it is a must!
The stories of nerves, heading for job
Interviews with sweaty palms,
Thinking of ways to stop damp armpits,
Reciting scriptures from the book of Psalms.
"The Lord is my shepherd...."
In the back row of church, reciting,
The paradox stories of my shoes,
Some hum-drum and some exciting!
So consider the shoes of the person
Next to you. There's always a story there.
Look at the eyes then look at the shoes and
Into the story of their life begin to stare.
The shoes that just got a pay raise, the shoes
Selling the high grade. Shoes that just saved a life.
The boots that just took one,
The shoes hiding that young man's knife.
The stiletto earning money at night
To feed her children in the day,
The shoes that got into a fight at night and
Wont see the morning of another day.
The baby boots, across from you, being worn by
The brightest smile and twinkling eyes,
Bouncing on mum's knee while dad, wearing a
Football shirt sings, "Who ate all the pies?!"
With all these shoes and your mind, there's no
Need for newspapers or reading books.
Don't believe me? Go to your shoe rack, sit down,
Say nothing and take a long, quiet look.