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riparii — Going Barefoot
Published: 2011-03-19 13:50:57 +0000 UTC; Views: 385; Favourites: 10; Downloads: 7
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Description
Going barefoot is notfood for the desperate;
air for the gasping;
touch for the trembling.
Going barefoot is
juniper moss and ostrich fern;
the voice of the raven;
the vision of an owl.
Listen:
this is the important part.
Thistles don't want company;
and rocks will wait in ambush
for your toes.
Never leave the trail.
Going barefoot is
the sway of limbs,
the scent of man.
Sometimes, I pull on shoes.
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Comments: 26
Oh, I love this!
I'm also unshod most of the year, and I wrote something similar to your poem as part of a written assignment for school last year.
We were supposed to look at the relationship between ourselves and a species of our choosing; I chose a species of bladderwort - a wonderful carnivorous plant genus.
I hope it's not too intrusive of me to add it here. It's not perfect, but I do like some parts of it.
Anyway, I hope you find it somewhat interesting,
enjoy ~
"There is a striking difference between my feet and the lacelike structure of bladderwort.
The muddy water is kind enough to hide most of my extremities from sight, though it can not obscure the memories I've transcribed in sedge and moss.
A transgression; we inspect our bodies. You; a floating mesh of green, making – underneath, extended limbs hide another truth. I feel out of place with my body towering above, out of range – I lift my head and look around these borderlands; a home for so many things unseen. A futile voice emante between us; we hope that I am the last one here. This world does not need our language – it already has its own; a restless song, the unheard voices of the unseen – far from unsung.
Tangible; though we care not for what we do not see.
Perception; we lost ourselves in a world created, constricted by our axiom - an image of ourself.
Reminisce the true world; the many worlds. Tangible and present bare feet away,
estranged ~
There is something otherwordly
in an exchange by a bare foot
Suddenly, there are things that hurt –
places that seem out of range
There is a lesson to be learned in our discomfort
and not only that of a bare foot kiss
I lower my gaze, extend an apology and draw back to the blinding sounds of human culture.
I have heard it called a natureculture, a conjoining – naught but a distant, fevered dream? A half truth, mayhap – it is a fool that seperates us from our roots, but the wise fool knows that not even the strongest roots can bind our elder´s beauty. Alas, we have a tendendcy for spoilage; the wisest fool has the audacity to be humble, to become less.
Imagine you and I; standing in the world of bladderwort not the size of ”men”, but instead the size of water mite and flea. We wouldn't float above, out of range – we would succumb to a vast body of water; swimming, crawling between stalks of sedge and moss. From a safety of size, reduced to prey for beings previously nonexistant – things that were crushed beneath your feet; unshod or not.
We would try to get out of the open, to be out of sight – a safe haven. In a sad twist of fate, you accidently brush against the hairs of a bladder hidden down under, we are swept into another world – a world of life and death, of transaction. The gate would close behind us, condemning us to dissolve into nothingness, into nothing that is everything.
The name we gave you, isn't the name you deserve
a name forged in misunderstanding
Like a diety of another dimension, watching from afar
a creator; a world of life and death
We gave you a name fitting ourself ~
Reminisce the true world, the many worlds
Lift your gaze,
this is the land of a silent hunter
the world of the unsung."
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This is one of my very first poems. In point of fact I think it's my second.
I've got a soft spot in my heart for it but it would come out rather different
if I attempted it today, perhaps.
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I've got some of those as well: one feels that to revise would mean to renovate past recognition, and so lives with their shortcomings. I'll post one of mine soon
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Then your woods were probably similar to mine.
The forest is one place I never trouble to wonder
about the meaning of life.
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of my personal favs.
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Thank you. Bare feet are two of my
favorite things.
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These is so lovely--I'm a barefoot person myself, in the spring and summer my feet only see shoes when it's required. This says so much about the whole of it, and in so few words.
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Thanks, I'm glad to find a comrade
in arms so to speak. People are often
so skeptical or even fervently opposed
to bare feet. They don't understand our
toes are aching to do what they were designed for.
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Indeed. And a comrade in feet, even...
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Oooh, this is beautiful. I love the way you present the idea, the right and wrong of how to handle it. You really capture the senses.
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Thank you Jen.
It's all true too.
I live in dread of raspberry pickers.
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How did I miss this?
Um..wow, Katie. I love how you put this. I'm a creature of bare feet almost always, when allowed. But I never saw so much in an idea. Beautiful.
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Very liberating for me, going barefoot.
Thank you Rachel. This is a very early one from the
old account and it was one of the first I moved over,
so it disappeared in the shuffle mostly.
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Mmhmm...same here.
It just feels like telling the rules to bug off.
Letting loose to be sort of child-like again,
but with a new awareness and appreciation for it.
Let's not allow anymore disappearances, k?
Shuffling or not, I need my wordies.
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This sounds effortless--in a good way, of course. Gorgeous!
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Thank you.
I love going barefoot but you really do
have to pay attention.
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I recall seeing and liking this back when I first 'met' you, when your name had one less 'i'.
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Yes, part i...
Thanks Lance, it's still one of my personal favorites.
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It was off my old account, other than
that I have no good answer to your question....
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