(A short piece inspired by my father in law, a Marine veteran, to the like of which we owe our upcoming Independence Day. )
The word ‘hero’,
Brightly lit and neon-painted,
Bulwark'd by blazing spotlights stabbing into the night
Draws crowds of admirers,
But, no Hero appears.
Far away from the site
The man himself pauses,
Peering into the dark;
Searching for the foe hidden,
The evil unseen by all but The Everyman.
Muddied boots,
Stealthy steps,
Rifle at the ready...
Eyes quickened,
On one of a hundred, unsung missions...
Years later one such tale may reach the news,
On a slow night.
Fighting on one side the cowardly,
He trudges the rocky field;
On the other side contending with the line itself…
Nudging blurred portions back into shape.
Sweat is ever-present, and grime…
Toil does not lift its heavy fingers
From pressing on his shoulders.
Yet, with a shrug he accepts more,
Slipping in among the danger,
Stepping over the fallen to shield, to fire…
Then to drag another to safety.
In fighting he opts for silence,
Knowing well that a show is deadly;
Knowing drab colors caked with dirt
Hide him against skulking eyes
And ceaselessly twisted hands.
He cannot relax
Or change his clothes,
Nor sway his steps but a little
Lest the ground engulf him.
Once gaining the haven built secret,
The Everyman can finally stand tall… and collapse;
He can clean and stretch out onto canvass,
Reading words penned by those cherished
Until Sleep, the unbeatable foe,
Claims him to a dreamless world of rest.
Oh, fools, imagine a world without him
And scenes arise so horrific, so chained,
So evil that one could not stir an inch.
Rally instead to welcome him,
Whether maimed or whole,
Whether slightly off
Or different than remembered.
The Everyman he is and ever will be,
For he, his fellows and leaders
Strain in shadow toward safety;
If we knew all we'd cheer them on loudly.
The burnt fingertips,
The booted feet speckled in their own blood,
Drenched in the loving tears of Others.
Throwing on the Normal mantle once returned
Facing the rest of us without fear of censure...
Heroes all.
