Someone else's Shoes
by Eric Reid

Nightly my tongue curses the face of the prison bars
That seal the fate of my youthful years.
Only then do I sleep memories of yesterday away.

Each morning summons curses anew upon my lips.
For morning is but night to a shackled being.

But when I dream, I dream the captive's dream
Of wine, women, and song.
I curse the dream that vanish at sunrise.
Woe is me, and curse be the woes that be.
Without mercy the steel cage drinks my life force.
So I curse both the cage and keepers of the cage.
I see only me and feel only my lingering death.
Those possession what I covet, I curse them all,
For they know none of my dreams or needs.

My cursing dried the blood of my heart.
Until empathy spoke sharply to my shame.
Empathy, the mother of someone else's shoes,
Summoned my ears to listen beyond my cries.

Colors that dance before your eyes evade the blind,
The shadows of AIDS passed your body to wilt another.
Shamed-faced and quiet, I listened as empathy admonished.

I thought of my shadows, manageable shadows
Where hope remains only a choice away.
Empathy whispered, fashioning new shoes upon my imagery,
Driving me to see the mileage of others.

For once I felt the blistered hearts of mankind,
Hearts grained with the texture of life's gravel.
My shoes leather grew brittle from sorrow walking.

Empathy admonished by placing the shoes
Of others upon my feet.

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