by Connor Fundell
the Older Siblings of hands
the Ambassadors between the legs and the ground the Cornerstone to one’s balance
the Atlas of the human body
Why should they be condemned to a life of hiding? Hidden under socks and shoes
Never discussed, never shared
Always humbly taking on the weight
Without even a word of complaint
The effects of their daily toil
are ever present to the masters they serve Callused heels, blistered toes
Overgrown nails turned yellow
And arches with depressed crests
are an inevitable fate, despite any mitigations made
And yet, they have their time to shine
as the backbone of Ballet
as an important grip for the Solo Climber or the only safeguard between a tight-rope Walker and a free-fall into the Abyss
Only then do they receive