Toes

Unsavory, and stilted.  
I wanted to reach farther than I ever had,
but stopped at the curb,
pavement staying solid
under the toes -  
Toes staying tight in the sock.
Wanted to think of light colors
when I heard your voice
but heard only jeering laughter
from the winos passing by
brandishing their bottles,
raging buccaneers, running from life
and racing toward destruction.
I stopped at the curb.

I wanted to sing louder than I had in months
wanted to feel strong again
to be a part of something more.
Cry out a rebellion to deformity 
of existence.  Of waiting at stop lights,
of crying in the shower, of older brothers.
But still I stopped.
And stayed.
And I heard your voice
when all the colors disappeared
again.  
Dimness took center.
Power sunk into the toes
as they curled over the curb
and held me tight to the corner.

Once again I think of your palm
cupped to catch the sunlight,
of beauty radiating out of your eyes
and into the souls of the helpless.
And how I am no longer 
helpless,
but still not strong
enough to lift my toes from the curb
and move them farther.
To raise my voice and sing louder,
to rely on a childlike kindness
for my happiness.
So I wait at the curb
for you to come and carry me,
but I look down, and look away.
You are not strong enough 
to uncurl me.
I can go farther than you could take me,
on my own.