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The Girl With No Shoes
walking through the town,
i see her:
the girl with no shoes
her hands, caked with mud
legs, scratched and bruised
face, more scarlet than white,
badly sunburnt by the wrath of the relentless sun
as she squats next to the sidewalk,
hopeful
the neighborhood kids pass by
as they always do
their taunting jeers ricochetting through the street
their laughter rises up like a tsunami
the girl with no shoes
doesn’t look away
indignance sparks
in her gray eyes
like clouds massing before a tremendous thunderstorm
she stands up
on her filthy, scratched feet
and opens her mouth
her words
will leave a permanent scar
in all of our memories
i know
because i was one of them
i know
because i joined in on their taunts
i know
because it was my reflection
i saw in the girl’s stormy gray eyes
as she stands up
on her scraped and broken feet
her physical injuries were no match
for the power of her voice
and her gaze didn’t waver
from any of us
as she stared each and every one of us in the eyes:
“just because i have
empty pockets
doesn’t mean
i have an empty mind.
your shoes don’t determine your worth
and you can say that
because you aren’t one of us.
you don’t have to sleep on the floor
you don’t have to roam in the wild
you don’t have to fend for yourselves.
all you can do is put down those who are lower than you.
but i have something you will never understand
thank goodness for my wounds
they’re beautiful to those who care.
i’m happy just the way i am.”
my thoughts unfocused
and i could only stare at her retreating back, moving
farther
and
farther
away
my unsaid apologies still hanging in the air
as i realize what i’ve done
in her eyes
i will always be the villain
the bully
as my friends walk away
rolling their eyes
still laughing and jeering,
i stand still on the spot
rooted to the ground by the words of the girl with no shoes.
even today
i am still the bully in her eyes
even today
i can never apologize
even today
i know that i am the reason
behind her stormy gray eyes
even today
i know that i was part of what had happened,
an invisible permanent mark
that would stay stand still,
centuries after,
entrenched and clawing at my soul
a permanent mark of a reminder
of what had happened
forever.
even today
i ask myself:
is this really true happiness?
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