Mama’s feet are desert beauty.
Cracked like the Grand Canyon,
Worked over by long ago rivers
That once flowed through her,
Leaving prints embedded in her
Heals. Her arches stand so proud,
Ballerinas have tried to steal them
Right from under her ankles.
They are dancing feet, bouncing
Babies-feet on the cool, hardwood
Floors of sleepless nights.
I know they’re sweet, because
Each time she works in the garden,
The ants go snacking one by one
To those beautiful red-nail toes,
Leaving venomous puss-filled pox,
Where they bit into her tasty flesh.
Mama’s feet have walked far
Distances, along all types of paths-
Gravel roads, rocky river banks,
Red roads, sandy beaches, burning
Tar roads, and the oil-dirt grounds
Where we live in Lloyd, Florida. I look
At my Mama’s feet and see it all- the
Hardships, the dreams, four babies,
The men, the dancing, the music,
And, Lord has mercy, the love.
Gardenia petal tops, rough and callused,
Dirt in the cracks, red chipped nails,
Can you see it? Just look at those gems
In the rough and admire their desert beauty.
