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Foothold

Of hearth and home the better part
is not the decorator’s art:

not tasteful pillows, painted walls,
or photographs along the halls,

but sturdy footing, on whose rust
a body steps with careless trust.

One walks most surely when at home.
But I have gone, away, alone,

and here I stand on shifting beach
as if my timid legs could reach

the great horizon—on—and on—
walk straight into the rising sun.

No sure steps lie ahead of me,
but vast and unconfining sea.

(submitted Dec. 2023)

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Maggie Palmer has recently graduated from the University of Dallas with a B.A. in English and Classical Philology. She currently works as an assistant teacher of high school English in Magenta, Italy. Her work has appeared in such magazines as Blue Unicorn, The Lyric, Grand Little Things, and Mezzo Cammin.

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10 Responses

  1. Roy Eugene Peterson

    Maggie, your rhythmic rhyming poem is a pleasure to read and provides an image that sticks in the mind, because of the sharp contrast of being on familiar ground at home and then realizing that once outside the box of normality, there is an uncertain and uncharted world in which there are “No sure steps.” I found your poem insightful, challenging, and beautifully written with a gravity of thought.

    Reply
  2. Daniel Kemper

    Tight, compact poems are the most difficult to write, in my opinion and there’s a lot to love here. I like that its impossible not to hear the “Footprints” story because of the setting and the footfalls, if you will. But very confidently and rightly judging that you don’t need to nod and wink and point brings an invisible kind of mortar to the bricks of this poem.

    I also really like the motion in this poem. It starts out at home ends at the … well, it ends at the horizon, if there is an end. But it never tells us left-right-left. We just move with the speaker. That’s a very sweet touch.

    This line, “But I have gone, away, alone,” is sonically very well-sculptured and its function as a kind of volta, right at the center is very impressive construction indeed to someone with an engineering background. And true to form with the rest of the poem, it says exactly what it’s contemplating, without saying it.

    Fantastic job.

    I won’t be able to get in everything I enjoy about this poem, but let me close with this one. The title compared against the ending “Foothold” … “unconfining” – a foothold in what we cannot hold.

    Reply
  4. Margaret Coats

    An intriguing poem, Maggie. “Foothold” has nothing sure to hold the feet walking uncertainly on the sea toward the sun on the horizon. That’s the major and unconfining image, but what about the sturdy footing of rust at home? Is it just old and worn, without indicating a collapsing structure? Careless trust might fall straight through with a foot caught or injured. But because that seems to oppose your home-and-away contrast, I’ll take the rust simply to mean that what is familiar may not be perfect or attractive, but is trusted comfortably despite any possible danger. It adds another aspect to home as you view it in this skillful piece.

    Reply
  7. Gary Borck

    A fine poetic voice, and very well crafted. I loved reading it, Maggie.

    Reply
  8. Paul A. Freeman

    I enjoyed this poem both literally and as a metaphor for the approaching (as it was when submitted) new year.

    Thanks for the read, Maggie.

    Reply
  9. Susan Jarvis Bryant

    Maggie, I love the way the narrator has courageously walked away from the well-known, historic foundations of home with a dream of their own. You capture the trepidation and the limitless possibilities of such a bold step beautifully. I relate to every word wholeheartedly. A wonderful poem!

    Reply

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