I very rarely consider my feet

Or how they help me live my life

With a certain rhythm and beat

Or how they reflect my privileged life,

the American standard I meet.

That is until I saw their five pairs of feet

Huddle together trying to fight my life’s

Rhythm and beat,

Being reminded of their lack of privilege

And “failure” of standards to meet.

And so young

And so young

And so young

Dirty, mismatched, wet, and cold

My feet had to pause

at the story their feet told

Suddenly my heart wasn’t so bold

And the rhythm I live got really old

The tears that came were selfish

Blankets, new socks, a bath???

All I really wanted was to hide those feet away

To simply move their pain out of my way

To empty my guilt from that public doorway

And what can I do?

Our feet all walk this same street,

Trying to get in the same rhythm and beat,

Struggling to find a place to simply meet

How I love and dread those five pairs of feet…