I was barefoot…

The line came from Forest Fires by Sarah Kay. Mostly I was talking about a fictional self but perhaps because of that, I quite like this piece. 

I was barefoot, standing on rough ground. The ground is always rough when you stand barefoot. 

I was barefoot, a wild child, running across rough ground, heedless of what she felt underneath. 

I was barefoot, alone, atopa mountain. But I did not howl down it. I still stood and looked down. 

I was barefoot, and naked. Nowhere. 

I was barefoot, had a holo on my head. Or had sprouted a pair of raven wings. Or had a crystalline heart that shone the colours of the rainbow. 

I was barefoot, wearing a T-shirt and jeans. The T-shirt was close-fitting, always a little bit of struggle when I pulled it off. But it was the one T-shirt that I wore out, that wasn’t part of my pajamas ensemble. 

I was barefoot, grounded on earth. 

I was barefoot, trodden through and worn out numerous pairs of shoes. 

I was barefoot, in a barren land. 

I was barefoot, dancing in a sunlit meadow. 

I was barefoot, dancing through the rain. 

I was barefoot, burying my toes in the warm sand. 

I was barefoot, soaking my sand-streaked toes into the water at the edge of the beach. 

I was barefoot, alone at the rooftop to read under the moon and starlight. 

I was barefoot, in bed, warm under the fluffiness of three blankets of down. 

I was barefoot, in the shower, letting my mind wander as I tasted the delightfulness of water droplets spraying my body and coursing down it, warming me to quiet ecstasy.