Don’t Fix Your Shoes

A younger me, how naïve,
And long since dead and gone,
Stepped in to fill some worn out shoes,
With a hope to make them new.

For a while, by inch and mile
I walked and patched them up.
New strings and polish improved the look,
But the soles were still worn through.

And when I tried, with my determined mind,
To replace that rotten core,
Those for whom I walked those shoes,
My progress, they eschewed.

Bit by bit, I could only sit,
As they unraveled what I made.
They made new holes in my brand-new soles
They drained the new life I imbued.

My running “team,” or so they seemed
Stood neatly in a row.
I watched in stunned disbelief,
As they removed the bright reds and blues.

Looking now, and wondering how
They could not see their folly,
I spoke out in support and solidarity with those,
Who had also fixed their shoes.

Bright green was mine, I found it fine
For freshening up my pair
But soon they came to me in line,
And pushed me out of queue.

Flat on my back, my vision black,
I felt them steal my shoes.
And as the queue marched on from me
There was nothing else for me to do.

Once off my feet, exposed to heat,
Still startled from the fall,
The shoes I tried so hard to fix,
Faded back to tired maroon.

My cosmetic fix and superficial tricks
Peeled off before my sight.
But even worse, what happened next,
Was too terrible to be true.

Our line leader, our public pleader,
Took out his sharpest knife,
And stabbed and sliced and slashed about
And even gave the dogs a chew.

Finally, I could see
What had happened years before
The shoes they now offered to another,
Suddenly new they were no more.

Years of work, quickly shirked
Now restored to “former glory,”
They looked identical to me,
As when I began this story.

It did not matter, the illusion shattered,
Only now I understand,
All they wanted all along,
Was to blindly follow plans.

“Don’t fix your shoes, and don’t ‘misuse’
Your given authority.
Just walk along, like we’ve always done
Or give your shoes back to me.

Personal Note and Interpretation Guide

When I was in high school literature class, I used to get so annoyed at my instructor while we were “interpreting” poems and stories. I was in denial that authors would ever intentionally build meaning into their meter. I didn’t think that writers meant for us to search for “hidden meaning” or cloaked metaphor. To put it clearly, I was a literalist. How small that thinking was!

Today, as I have amassed my own personal literature collection, I now know that authors do often intend for these meanings to be “read between the lines.” Not only that, but once the words have left the pen, they are no longer solely the authors’. Interpretation is up to the reader. With billions of unique experiences and views in this world, the opportunities for interpretation are infinite.

I also believe that a well-written literary piece should not require author explanation. However, for this poem, I have elected to make an exception.

This poem addresses a very personal and emotional topic for me. When I read it, it speaks to me about an experience of gaslighting. I chose the meter carefully; The way it flows, then doesn’t flow, then flows again is significant. This is accentuated by the unique rhyme scheme. Of course, the extended metaphor of the shoes is there as well, and could indicate a job, a relationship, or something else. The few colors mentioned are carefully selected as well.

That’s all I can share about it right now, and that is what I assigned meaning to when it left my pen. But now, dear reader, it is yours to interpret. What does it mean to you? What imagery calls your name?

Share your thoughts in the comments.