i’m afraid to take my socks off
and see my poor feet
still covered in the afternoon’s
blisters and dirt

i’ve been too busy
thinking about eternity
and typing poetry
too bother with my body

bed is calling me
and now i must face the fact
that the maker made me
soft and human

when my eyes see
the blisters popped and sand
ground into the pus
i wince and bite my tongue

i wash with cold water
and very tenderly pat dry
followed with antibiotics and bandaids

i can tape my body back together
when i’ve abused it
neglected it while my heart ran away
for part of a day

but i cannot
tape my heart back in
having left it
beating in his hands

About m

My ego wants to think I'm a writer but my heart knows I'm just another one of God's Kids who sometimes has words to say. 2 human kids and 3 feline kids call me Mom. Or Mooooooom. Or mewom, depending which you ask. I'm kinda-sorta busy being a student again; this time I signed myself up for a bizarre torture known as Graduate School. Theoretically in 4ish years I'll have earned some more nice letters to put with my name. Let's face it, I'm addicted to learning and probably need rehab to restore me to sanity and remove the obsession to read books. I don't remember what free time is but I think I like to spend it sleeping or playing in the mud on a river bank.
This entry was posted in creative writing, poetry and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to blisters

  1. Pingback: 1996-2016: A Sample of 20 Years | the liminal life of m

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s