Footsteps, two impressed across a hot shore, singular in
Width and curve but universal in contour: right foot then left
Female, all toes present. Circles and lines of footprints
Circling everywhere yet nowhere of importance, no urgency
Toes squish into sand, sea froth propels imprints toward
Currents surging between highways of migrating whales
Mixing with ocean currents that crash onto beaches
In Africa
Footprints, millions impressed into parched desert earth
Stones, sharp edged, cutting into weary, barefoot flesh of
Solemn boys and hollow girls. Heels and toes press for safety
Skin black as core, eyes plead, voice a language I’ve never heard
Words of their fathers and mothers, ghosts maimed and slain
Haunt the journey of these children, alone, seeking haven
Forcing their feet to bear the weight of flight, the quest
For refuge
Only fortune chose me for an afternoon strolling at the shore
While these children march into the fear of night, away from
Known terror to unknown future. Stalwart grandparents
Remained in Africa’s torrid cradle amid the realm of ancestors
My footprints match the children’s bearing ghosts of Africa
Their toes as long as mine, the arch of their feet as high.
They walk. They flee across Africa’s night, black as
Snuffed stars
My claim the bounty of my grandparents’ choice
A million years ago when the sun burned beneath their feet
Walking from the cradle of Africa to Europe to ships bound for
America where I, descendent, wander on a glazed beach
Aimless steps trekked on hot shore, washed by seas
Luck the gift of my heritage, I walk a tranquil coast
The children walk on vital paths. Tomorrow I walk
To Darfur
Copyright Sharon Bonin-Pratt 2013
Author’s Note: This poem was written a several years ago and refers of course to the genocide in Darfur, Sudan in the early 2000’s. While much of the conflict in Darfur has been resolved, the dichotomy of fortune has not been repaired for so many in our world. I hope in this season of joy and celebration that we all find a way to bridge the chasm, whether via an invitation to share at table, a donation to a worthy cause, or an act of kindness for someone else.
May you enjoy the holidays with your loved ones and may you be blessed and recognize your blessings.
(Addendum: I have absolutely no idea why the site insisted on boldfacing some lines of the poem. It is not written this way and I can’t get it to correct.)
Sharon Bonin-Pratt's Ink Flare 
Comments on: "A Walk to Darfur" (4)
The legacy of footprints is powerful. The Laetoli footprints that told us so much about a family of earliest man–man and woman and children traveling with (maybe) animals. The footprints of god in Footprints in the Sand.
Those tracks tell so much about man, what he is, where he’s going, his energy level.
Wonderful piece.
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I’m delighted that you made that connection. We humans began our journey by walking – and God’s footprints follow us – or lead – or maybe just walk beside.
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This is a great poem Sharon. It brings home how we are one, the only difference being that divine intervention led to our destinies being worlds apart. One that has and one that has not. You may have written it in response to the Darfur genocide but it has the same impact today with what is happening in the world. One can only pray that one day our left and right feet have the same ground beneath them.
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Irene, I love what you wrote: One can only pray that one day our left and right feet have the same ground beneath them.
Thank you for adding such insight to my poem. Yes, I did mean it to transcend Darfur; human history narrates too many inequalities.
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