The solace of warmth that sheaths my feet as I tread the cold hard earth. Every step is an effort meant to hurt, yet safely tucked within these fabrics meant to deceive. Of the occasions in attempt of mischief, we bare our feet on the annoying sands, adhering bits of sore into the secluded comfort.
Why?
Because it means bittersweet memories now walks with us. From an experience we do not wish to forget, we taint the warmth of embrace upon our feet. The amelioration of this prickly ambient blessed on our feet, is not something matched by the mere strength of words. But the same could not be said for the more languid self.
Not for the mind, but for the heart.
If I could savor such warmth and comfort to my heart as to my feet. Will I renounce the tears I shed for endeavors not spoken? I do not know. If there is a pair of shoes for my heart, will I be brave enough to achieve what I set out to attain? My heart is walking the thorny path of dead roses. Bleeding still, the wounds grew deeper with every step I take. Numb, from the shivering frost of seclusion, unlike that of my feet.
I want a pair of shoes for my heart.
I would rather weep from the pains of mortal wounds, than sob from the barefooted heart.
*Inspired by Gerviene, entry on April 09 2010.
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