Ode to the Chronic Pain in My Feet

Ode to the Chronic Pain in My Feet

I never thought that there was much
to say about feet. Uglier than hands
and half as thoughtful. I remember trying
to draw with them and being disappointed.
Like any limb, you don't think about them
until something isn't quite right. I have never
wanted to wander around a whole city as much
as I do right now. To circle Jericho's walls
like Joshua. To stand until rain pools
in my collarbones. Sometimes I think about
my great-grandparents walking however long
they had to walk to get to work and knowing
that I wouldn't be able to go with them.
I don't mean to complain. I suppose I am afraid
of treading the same small paths over and over.
Seeing my room become farther from the dining hall
each day until it isn't worth the trip. Sitting
like my grandpa in front of the television,
talking to Anderson Cooper because there is
no one else with whom to argue. Of leaving
my children's soccer games early, or wanting
my wedding ceremony to proceed more quickly.
It does not take long to become accustomed to fear.
To become a smaller man. Two or three weeks
and you, too, will have forgotten how to straighten
your back. How to stand tall in the morning.