Poem: After the Museum by John Predmore, S.J.

I wrench my shoes from my bruised swollen feet
and release them from the day’s tension.
Toes pointing upwards, red and throbbing,
gasping for their fresh freedom.
They soldiered valiantly
and bore much weight
for they had to carry me home.
Now they rest, raised up, steaming hot.
“We are weary,” they cry proudly.
“We’ve toiled well.
Stretch us. Unbind us. Let the air be our salve.
We must ready ourselves for another tomorrow.”