My Brave Foot

left_foot 1
adapted from image at http://www.soil-net.com

I put my best foot
forward
it’s OK
I’m OK

I put my best foot, my left foot
forward
it’s OK
I’m OK

I put my best foot, my left foot, my big foot
forward
it’s OK
I’m OK

I put my best foot, my left foot, my big foot, my brave foot
forward
it’s ok
I’m ok

my aching toes protest
as they clutch and drop straw
onto reeking compost
to drain
to aerate
to cleanse and freshen it.

but
it’s ok
I’m ok

© Jane Paterson Basil

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4 thoughts on “My Brave Foot

    1. It’s a bit obscure and quite unkind. I was walking away from a meeting with Laura, and I thought “Put your best foot forward.”
      I’m always trying to think of ways to help her out of her predicament – at the moment she is at risk of rough sleeping because she has made a damaging statement to the police about the man who was sheltering her, and there are few people who’ll take her in for even one night. She can’t go to either of her sisters, because they have children, and they’d be at risk in more than one way. My sister seems to be prepared to shelter her as long as I accompany her, altough she has made her home into a community of timid, vulnerable people. If we go there I have to be constantly picking up after her and watching her to see that she doesn’t swear or get aggressive. I think she has already upset one person by smoking in the garden.
      I’m ashamed to say that I was comparing her to a compost heap – if you don’t add straw or some sort of dry matter to a compost heap it can become stagnant and smelly, instead of being useful and nutritious.
      I shouldn’t post these mean little poems which pop into my head.

      Like

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