Shoes

Dad doesn't wear 

His shoes. 

Weak knees- 

He fell off a couple 

Of times.

Afraid of wearing 

Them now.

But he polishes 

Every morning and 

Slides them under 

The cot, like it's a salute 

To his body that 

Doesn't obey.

Dreams of running 

With the shoes on 

But the reality of

Every morning is

A defeat of limping 

In the house.

This struggle-

Past borders, 

Past medals,

Past time itself to

Cope with the new

Reality-

The battlefield now

Is the hallway,

And victory is simply

Not falling.