At the Bottom of Me

Look down there on the floor,
See those feet wide and long?

Gripping the worn carpet with rough soles,
Made for going on long secret journeys.

More adventurous than I could ever be,
They trudge up stairs and run down hills.

When I was younger they would dig into the hot gritty sands
of coastal holiday places like Wainui Bay.

Trekking across rocks leaving trails of red seeping
from meeting with rough edged oyster shells.

Their flesh was eaten long before I got here.
My feet have five strong women leading them.

Each longer than the one she stands beside,
Sometimes they all wear red or pink hats.

Once I saw them all wearing purple
wriggling with delight under my favourite skirt.

Sometimes, without asking they surge ahead,
striding out in front of the rest of me.

Tramping streets, river banks and damp bush paths,
they have been know to wave around in deep river water.

At the beach at times dancing through receding waves,
with no interest in what happens at the top of me.

I never hear any idle chatter from them,
but they never leave me alone with my thoughts.

My feet always take me wherever they go,
Even to bed when they are more tired than I.

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I live and work in a beautiful place with a river and beach and the wild west coast. Having grown up without a TV, as a family we read a lot. This lead to me writing a lot which in turn lead to a habit of writing poetry to make sense of my world. My grandmother painted. Lovely oils and water colours which she encouraged me to try. For many years I did very little, life was not conducive to creativity until came a time when life turned on its head and suddenly I found expression in creativity with the Intentional Creativity method taught by Shiloh Sophia McCloud in her Color of Women training. So here I am, writer, artist, ritual maker showing my offerings to the world.

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