Grove
This was the first time
we really look at each other
and not be able to tell
who master the cruelest
who sorrow the deepest
who ground been the hardest to hoe.
We was lined up like oaks in the yard
standing with our chins up,
proud chests out, shoulders back,
and already nervous stomachs in.
We was a grove wanting to be a forest,
ready to see what kind of wood we made from.
The only thing taller or straighter
than us be the boards
holding up the barracks at our backs,
though most our feets feel pigeon-toed
and powerful sore
from marching back and forth, every day,
for what seem like more miles
than we walked to get here.
It take more than pride to stand still
'neath these lil' hats not made for shade.
Soldiering ain't easy, but it sure beats
the bloody leaves off a bondage.
Copyright Credit: Frank X. Walker, "Grove" from LOAD IN NINE TIMES: POEMS by Frank X. Walker. Copyright © 2024 by Frank X. Walker. Used by permission of Liveright Publishing
Corporation.
Corporation.
Source: LOAD IN NINE TIMES: POEMS (Liveright Publishing Corporation, 2024)