Those Damned Danish Red Shoes

"In the  afternoon the old lady heard from everybody that Karen had worn red shoes. She said that it was a shocking thing to do, that it was very improper, and that Karen was always to go to church in future in black shoes, even if they were old". ~ Hans Christian Anderson, The Red Shoes

Now that I am a widow,

bring me those Danish Red Shoes

that I, in my dulled grief, may dance

and, be-spelled, remember the pull of life.

I don’t want my feet to ever stop

their desperate desire

their frantic life-prolonging steps;

I want to dance fairy-like through fields and meadows,

Through dreary rain or day’s hot sun, night and day,

I want to dance through the brambles and briars

that tear at my limbs.

Bring me no angels;

bring me those Danish Red Shoes.

For I am afraid in my everyday black shoes

that I have already stopped moving,

stopped thinking,

stopped dreaming,

stopped caring,

stopped being vain and hopeful.

For you see, ’tho my mind is drooping with mourning

my heart continues to dance.

To love, it has not died.

But with my feet stilled, it has been silenced

            and it grows cold and mortal

and my hands want to curve around warm flesh

            without feeling guilty.

I want to dance fey through streets & buildings,

Through dreary rain or day’s hot sun, night and day,

I want to dance, though the vines and thorns

tear at my limbs.

Bring me no angels to save my life;

Bring me those damned Danish Red Shoes.

Ariel

June 4, 2011