We March Into the Fire

Boots in rhythm. Flags held high. Breath in armor, steel in eyes.

Dust on the medals. Mud on the face. Counting the seconds.

Heart keeps the pace. Signal is rising. Cold in the air.

Every last soldier standing right there. We march into the fire. Side by side

we hold the line. Every drum beat calling higher. If one falls,

we all rise. We march into the fire. Through the thunder, through the roar.

This is what we came here for. Name on a letter.

Wearied and worn. Folded and worn. Pray in a pocket. Edges all torn.