Orphan Shoe
Searched all night
For lambs lost.
For coins
Whole joint was tossed.
But cobblers know
Neither flock nor treasure.
Upon what base
Was fit my measure?
Born of neither
Gold or nursing mother,
I was lost.
You just shrugged,
Sat down
And stitched another
···
modified 7-2-18. “Bleating” changed to “nursing” LG
Lona Gynt, June 2018
Copyright, All rights reserved to Lona Gynt, June 2018.
Addendum: 6-30-2019. This poem was written as a reflection on the now rescinded Policy of Exclusion regarding children of homosexual couples in my church. This morning I found a tender and insightful post about that policy, In an effort to help us remember and perhaps make further progress I am posting a link to Andrew’s post.
Remember the 5th of November: The LDS LGBT Exclusion Policy & Its Reversal
I think for some shoes are made from nothing
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That’s right sometimes. 🙂
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Oh, I love this.
These lines are telling:
“But cobblers know
Neither flock nor treasure.”
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Thank you, I think it is hard sometimes to see and know as we are seen and known, and we try to fix and cobble people together without really seeing them. I enjoyed this prompt, I did not quite anticipate where it sent me. It was fun, thanks! 🙂
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Ah, the joy of pursuing a prompt! This was wildly original, and yet I felt it had the tone of a long-lost Brothers Grimm or that Hans Christian guy. We are all made of original stuff and that’s what makes life on Planet E cool!
BTW — I’m a third of the way through “As I Lay Dying.” Faulkner rocks.
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That’s it, it does feel a bit like Andersen, I was actually thinking a little bit of “The Little Match Girl” this week, how she was alienated and alone, but eventually found. My poem does not get past the first set of matches. I guess he was in my brain for this, but I didn’t realize it until you told me. I am glad you are loving the Faulkner! “Picture This” wasn’t in stock, so it is in the mail. Looking forward to it!
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I do hope it lives up to expectations!
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Your cobbler reminds me of my real life cobbler friend who says he’s Buddhist but could be Christ come down too. Cigarette on lip and lacquered, leathery hands, he continues to “stitch another.” An orphan too. I am glad you pointed me to this today. I see we both tagged ours with “alienation.” Actually, I considered that for the title. But how alienated can we really be when we both do this? Your prayer is a blessing too. Amen.
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alienation is the disease, love is the cure, cure is not appreciated without the disease, they both need each other? 🙂
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“New Refrain” is the better title. 🙂
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Concerned with loss one makes another.
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yes – we try to replace the irreplaceable.
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Powerful dedication and metaphoric write, Lona.
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Thank you. 🙂
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Splendid!
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Thank you, I love the name Mother Wintermoon btw. 🤱🏻❄️ 🌖
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I feel sad for that shoe that was given up for lost and simply replaced simply because it has no value. How many hearts have been treated that way?
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That is the exactly the feelings I was having when I wrote this, I really am touched that this came through, thank you 🙏🏻
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Stitching another might be the solution like moving on ~ Clevery word phrasing with :
But cobblers know
Neither flock nor treasure.
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thank you, I do think being able to move on in Life is important, no one wants to be outright lost though. I’m glad you like the phrasing.
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Every word. Love this poem!
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Thank you. That is an honor, I am so glad you love this!
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Lona, your pen is to writing as a paint brush is to an artist. Marvelous, simply marvelous.
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Thank you Lance, this praise from a writer of your caliber has really been a boost to my confidence, it feels like an honest opening of a door for my attempts toward art.
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Lona, it is a great pleasure. And, I wish you the best with your art!
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