Pause For Poetry: Michael Hawkes /61
A poem by Michael Hawkes
November 13, 2023
These rare artifacts around me
Are my personal selection,
And share the common attribute
Of inducing deep reflection,
Although the many different aspects
Make a notable collection.
But of all that I’ve collected
From my life’s bizarre pursuits,
By far the most reflective
Are my beat-up Blundstone boots.
I look at all these things I own
With great renewed affection,
Cos’ now I face the great unknown
My compass needs correction.
I need to leave this comfort zone
To discover other routes,
So I’ll leave the paintings and the poems
But take the Blundstone boots.
The patina of ancient leather
With weathered lines and cracks
Remind me of a life untethered
Along a thousand wayward tracks.
The worn-down heels and blistered soles
Show they’ve travelled far and wide,
And a trace of old polish still reveals
How once these boots were worn with pride.
I’m positive that when I die
It’s these boots I’ll be remembered by,
So when my heirs are in attendance
In their funerary suits,
They’ll be left with strict instructions
To respect my Blundstone boots.
6/10/22 – Hawkes