Feet

I have been taking photos of my feet in different landscapes for several years.

This conscious act of grounding: of stopping to notice my feet within the landscape itself; this has helped to punctuate my sense of place, beauty and the passage of time.

This poem is the result of this.

From Birth, they have kicked the air –

Sought connections to push against,

To make Safety the enclosing feeling.

With arms, baby-me whirled,

Almost informing my forming brain

That I exist cosmically in this time and plane

After a billion years of nothing.

There will have been a first day

For them to securely hold my world upright:

The first grass felt under:

The first pathway of travel in sight.

How often since have I not felt them as they mobilise me,

Whilst in return they avoided every root, pavement stepped upon,

They’ve accelerated away from each danger, every slowing down

To meet my loved ones

In a kiss.

These toes have wiggled out my bliss.

The pads have stomped anger –

And both turned inwards when shy remiss

Takes hold.

Now bunions creep…and angles deep

Leap into toes, as age seeps to

The whole frame.

But these older feet are happier on the soil

Than ever.

They know who they carry.

They know the soul can’t be harried

From this life and experience of ME.

They know the rhythm they beat

Will cease – but complete

Beyond their own existence –

The echo of their passing

In the landscape and ripple

Of my infinite life.