I stand in the ring
in the dead city
and tie on the red shoes
They are not mine,
they are my mother’s,
her mother’s before,
handed down like an heirloom
but hidden in shameful letters.
Fragments of words, broken phrases, missing places….some of you will recognize and know what is missing, others will read the simplicity of the stanzas and cry, “yeah, that’s me!”
See the previous post for a powerful reading of The Red Shoes.
One response to “The Red Shoes”
Yes, what’s here gives a totally different meaning. Kind of like life, right? Sometimes we get bits and pieces and we don’t see the whole picture. We take what we need and disregard the rest. That’s not necessarily wrong… depending.
You’ve sparked my curiosity and I’m wondering what’s the rest of the story!