Bootsteps
0 
Have I really never known
The sound of soldiers’ footsteps in the
Streets?
Maybe some old memory
From before I was born
Still lingers after the war
Rhythmic, almost like dancing
The marching
The sound as unfamiliar as rain after a
Summer of drought
Rain on unfamiliar surfaces
Soft, toxic and manmade
Then why does it inspire
Such fear?
Bootsteps accompanied by the
Rat-a-tat of metallic moveable parts on
M16s and 9mms
The loudest, driest, deadliest snare
The crescendo of their return on the next pass
What are they watching for, so ready to fight?
What could be so worth the effort of fear?
Have I really never heard
The sound of soldiers’ footsteps in the streets?
The cold patrol of ignorance and anger
Don’t let it be born of fear
Or spread like fear
Let it be rain on the tree limbs and
Cold hard ground
Let it be heartbeats
9 October 2011
Bootsteps, Tags: fear, hope, paranoia, soldiers
Anya,
Excellent!
This surely describes what it must sound like to hear marching for an unknown purpose by an unknown force.
So often, history portrays marching by soldiers in various countries at various times as a source of exultation and swelling pride. I think this reflects old attitudes toward war that were not valid at the time and surely are archaic now.
Loved this poem!
Larry
There was a moment when I thought I heard the sound of marching outside, and it just struck me that as crazily bad as our politics have gotten, I can’t believe we don’t already have martial law in effect. I’m glad we don’t (at least overtly), but I felt a real understanding for the terror of the Nazi regime in that moment.
Thanks for your comments.
This is a very thoughtful and compelling piece. In modern America, we have never heard that sound outside of a parade ground. Coul it happen here? Maybe.