Children shoes

I remember myself walking
with dried-up tears on my cold cheeks,
it was an endless road the one we chose.
Without a destination to uphold,
I was very young and understood only a little.
I only knew we had to go,
having no reason as to why.

My mother pulling me by the hand to keep me going,
saying not to look back, not even for a sec.
I didn’t get to bring with me any of my belongings,
the only thing I got to take, my children’s shoes.
And even them, completely torn; but they were a gift from my father.
The only thing I had to remember him by.
He bought them only a few days before death found him in his sleep.

We walked for hours towards a destination unknown.
My feet were hurting, and my children’s shoes almost destroyed.
I wish they were the only thing that got to break.
My family was also broken by the musts that accompany each fugue but…
I only wanted to prevent the breaking of my shoes and took them off.
I walked barefoot with the children’s shoes in my hand.
One hand was held by my mother, the other hand was holding my shoes.

The rain started to fall, the water caressed me freezing
even more my shoeless feet.
I looked towards the cloudy sky
and raindrops washed the dried-up tears off my cheeks.
My mother pulled me under a tent, waiting for a cease of rain,
I sat down on the sidewalk and hugged with two hands my children’s shoes.
The last object I had which brought my father’s memory back to life.

The children’s shoes held in one hand resembled holding
mother and father on each side.
Thus, the way of leaving became sweeter,
less scary for a child’s soul.
Through children’s shoes my purest thoughts came back to life
thoughts of my home, my land
the last tears that dried on my cheeks cold.

Triantafyllia Pliaka