Lynn White

Shoes

You can see them here

blocked together in a town square,

laid out symbolically in rows.

Empty shoes.

Rows upon rows of them

that once contained the toddlers

or school children

now dead,

killed by bombs

and bullets.

See here,

empty shoes.

Rows and rows of them.

Sandals that will never play on a beach,

school shoes that will never see a school,

all those shoes that will never contain feet.

Shoes of children and peaceful people,

our children.

our people 

spanning place and time without end.

School Shoes

I loved the pond near my auntie’s.

Just a short walk from the village.

I could get right up close 

and peer into the water.

That was how I saw the frogs.

They were not easy to catch but

I managed it eventually, one at a time.

I kissed each carefully

to make sure they were real frogs,

didn’t want one of those prince things.

Then I put them in my shoe and placed

my other shoe on top

so that they couldn’t jump out.

I walked back barefoot 

over the rough ground

and the village street.

I discovered that my mother and auntie

were afraid of frogs.

Perhaps they would have preferred princes.

They didn’t like the barefoot walk either.

My dirty feet would show them up, 

they said.

And worse! They were my school shoes,

which were also my only shoes

and now they were smelly with pond water

and frogs!

But my uncle was cool

said they were good for the garden.

So I watched them leapfrog through his garden.

I hoped they’d be happy there.

He told me they were,

but I never saw them again.

Miss Pass

My first best friend was Susan.

We were inseparable.

Soon we would be starting school.

Starting at the same school.

It shouldn’t be a problem.

But Susan was three months older

and this was a problem.

She must start earlier

and we would be parted.

Unthinkable!!

Such concern from our parents.

But all was well.

It wouldn’t be a problem.

And all thanks to Miss Pass,

the headmistress,

a wonderful woman

who understood the feelings 

of small children.

We could start together

and in the same class.

She was a shining example 

to teachers everywhere.

We knew it as we hung our coats

on pegs next to each other in the cloakroom

and unlaced our school shoes.

But a few days later 

when we had settled in,

disaster struck.

We were to be in different classes.

Such tears and trauma

as we hugged and kissed

and said goodbye at our pegs

in the cloakroom

each morning and afternoon.

And all because of Miss Pass,

the headmistress,

a stupid woman

who had no idea about the feelings

of small children

and should never have been allowed

to be a teacher anywhere.

We knew it as we hung our coats

on pegs next to each other in the cloakroom

and unlaced our school shoes.