This piece honors the unseen labor of women who served—those who carried the weight of service without recognition, rank, or room to fall apart. It’s a tribute to the veterans whose strength was never pinned to a chest.
I wore the boots. I earned the name.
I carried the weight. I swallowed the shame.
No parades. No stories told—
Just silence marching through endless blue.
I stood my ground. I did my part,
With steady hands and battered heart.
But when they speak of war and pride,
They leave my shadow on the side.
We forged a bond that words can't claim—
Silent. Supportive. Alive through pain.
Secret suffering, stitched and scarred,
Too raw to name. Too deep. Too hard.
There are so many ways we learn to survive:
the glance behind,
the tightened stride,
the keys between our fingers at night.
We armor ourselves in quiet ways—
so subtle, we forget we even pray.
No medals gleam across my chest.
No banners wave for what I suppressed.
A woman airman, strong yet small,
Unwritten in their victory calls.
Still—
We made it. Against the tide.
Invincible, though torn inside.
We are the real warriors—unseen, but true—
Fighting wars no one knew.
Still, I rise with every dawn,
Though those I served beside are gone.
I am the voice they never heard—
But still I rise.
Still, I stand.
A veteran — in every breath,
In every word.
Jen Patronas is a U.S. Air Force veteran and doctoral scholar living in Alaska, where she raises three sons, tends chickens, and writes from the quiet edges of rural life. Her poetry is rooted in lived experience and advocates for women veterans whose stories are too often silenced. Through her work, she speaks to survival, strength, and the quiet work of healing.
