Boots in the Ground

I cannot bear to stand or kneel

for boots all in a row.

It reminds me of the friends

I lost and some I needed so.

Each time I say I’ll cry no more,

how wrong can this soldier be?

These are my buddies who fought

and died and sometimes next to me.

The boots are just a number

for a nation to recall.

Except for the soldier who strapped them on

and that day gave is all.

To his family and friends

there is no end.

The pain becomes each day a breath,

a voice now gone, but will never go away.

I cannot stand boots in a row,

but I will still fight and pray

to God for the soldiers

who filled them so.