I always wanted to be like my big sister:
president of student body, editor of college rag,
straight A student, law school grad,
judge in New York City, handing out bail
to bullies who break the law.
Someone to look up to, someone to admire,
till Parkinson's stole her gavel and her gown,
ravaged her ability to walk and talk
think and thank and then
absconded with her life.
Now I stand here in her shoes,
left shoe on my right foot now,
insole inside out, nothing fits,
laces tied too tight, too tough,
one shoe black, the other blue.
Wishing I could have her back,
wishing I had shoes that fit,
who I used to --
and still want to --
be.
You came at this from a totally different angle and it worked so well. .
Paulette, you've written about about something many are familiar with, and yet you have elevated
the poem to something poignant and compelling. A beautiful cruel for sure. My view is it is using the shoe , simple, ordinary, yet capable of producing a mic-drop finish. Great poem. thank you
I also have an older sister I was desperate to be like. I love her to bits but i don't want to be like her anymore. Everyone has something going on in their lives. I'd rather have my issues than hers.