These feet carry the farmer into the fields each morning,
As the scorching sun hits his damp brow.
Trudging along, he carefully plants each seed into the soil
So that every night they carry him home
To place on the plates of his wife and children
The food he has tirelessly earned.
These feet carry the Broker down Wall Street each morning
As his starched suit and slick hair scream “Power”
He rips through the papers to examine each stock
And prepares for the endless ring of each client’s call
His feet are firmly stuck to the floor as his next call is
“Honey, I’m going to be working late tonight”
These feet carry the mechanic into the garage each morning
As she braids back her hair and zips up her suit
She slides herself under each broken engine
Seizing each nut and bolt as she seizes her dreams
Proving her brothers and father wrong
With every smear of grease and pat on the back
These feet carry the teacher into school each morning
With a stack of ungraded papers and coffee in his hand.
He gives his multitude of repetitive lectures
Flying quickly through the classes of slackers and snoozers
But he stops all time to savor the beautiful click
He sees in the minds of each eager dreamer.
These feet carry the student into school each morning
With her back full of books, and her mind full of space.
She sits silently, always clicking her pen
Ignoring the empty, meaningless words of her peers
Her eyes and ears fixed on the teacher in front
Absorbing knowledge to take home for the day.
These feet lie on the wheelchair that carries the girl
Who does not let fear phase her
Each morning, rolling into the cold gymnasium
With that firm, orange, ball in her lap
She swiftly shoots her way to victory
Proving to herself that she is not broken
These feet carry the people
Bearing the burdens, and triumphs, and scars
Of each different, important, amazing life
They take us on each journey, carrying the stories
Of who we were, who we are, and who we want to be
These feet carry us