struggling with a sore foot

since I hiked 25 miles around Gettysburgh
my right foot hurts when I walk further than a mile

i could complain, i guess
or say nothing

either, really

but somewhere between
that's me
remembering the middle-aged police officer
who waited to chastise us
as we walked through the national cemetary

that's me
remembering the monument to the men of massachusetts
who died there hot and sweaty
not quite sure what it meant
why they fought
or whether their blood would sanctify this holy ground.

at two in the morning on the battlefield
as hundreds of boys and men snore in tents
where their grandfather's grandfather's died

the sliver of moon above me
like salt falling up from my eyes
toward their rest in heaven

i massaged my foot for an hour,
the stabbing pain nears unbearable

as my day's journey
flooded down and out of me

as every ghost took my pain
and whispered
"Stephan,
Rest."