Kicking off April

With my mother's shoes

My mother contracted polio when she was a toddler in Germany. The Nazis had my grandmother sign an affidavit that she would turn her child in for euthanasia if the infection reached her brain. My mother survived (obviously), but was left partially paralyzed on her right side. This caused no end of physical (and emotional) challenges for her throughout her life.

Today is the first day of April - and, the first day of several Poem-a-Day Challenges being run on the internet. One such is hosted by Writer’s Digest Magazine (here’s the link, if you want to play along). We are also running one inside the Writers on Fire community where I also added the option of using one of Lois Peterson’s prompts (they can be found on Lois’s website - follow this link).

I wasn’t feeling foolish today, so the Writer’s Digest prompt didn’t appeal to me, but the phrase, my mother’s shoes caught my eye on Lois’s list [actually, her prompt was my mother’s hands or my father’s shoes or, switch them up].

I’m going to see how many days I can tick both boxes (drawing and poetry) this month.

Here’s today’s draft (I say draft, because there are always ways to improve poetry and every poem benefits from some resting time… however, in the spirit of sharing my process, here’s as far as I got today).

PAD Challenge 2023: April 1

My Mother’s Shoes

Cost twice as much
one foot clubbed
twisted, weak -
smaller by two sizes
than the other.

A collection of
opposite, unusable pairs
saved for years in case
she ever met her mirror image.

“Don’t use those words,”
  lame
  gimpy leg
  cripple
  handicapped
broken.

Her twist started
  at the ground.
Withered toes, bent
  and crooked,
  pressured ankle bones
  into surgical submission,
  fusion therapy, casts, braces
  couldn’t stop the inward spiral
  of knee,
  hip dysplasia,
  the turn of her spine against her.

The more her body collapsed,
the higher she held her chin.

“Stand strong,
   on the good leg you have.”