Except for my glasses frames
and my belly (a bit),
the only part of me I can see
when I’m walking—my darting feet,
and my belly (a bit),
the only part of me I can see
when I’m walking—my darting feet,
making me understand those people
(studied by anthropologists)
who carry their souls with
in little bags—
(studied by anthropologists)
who carry their souls with
in little bags—
I carry my soul with wherever I walk
on my beautiful feet,
feeling the earth full
of some fiery juju that impels me.
The sight of my feet always
delights me.—on my beautiful feet,
feeling the earth full
of some fiery juju that impels me.
How can I ever completely
give up on God's love while I can worship
my spirit-dwelling feet?
