This is not a polite poem.
You can stop reading now
if you want.
I’ll never know.
And isn’t that the problem?
The things we don’t do.
I wish I had bigger shoes,
shoes to kick the shit
(I warned you)
out of racism, homophobia, you name it,
man’s inhumanity to man
They wouldn’t be comfortable shoes,
but then that’s the point.
The right things aren’t often the easy things,
but, really, how hard is it to be kind?
My bigger shoes would have a tread of compassion
that left a mark of kindness,
kindness that would lead to action,
rather than the non-action of fear.
I’m not trying to be holier than thou.
Trust me – I know I’m not.
I’m just trying to wear bigger shoes.
/ / /
This poem was written in response to the Big Shoes prompt at We Write Poems.