by Larry Brody
NOTE FROM LB
I used to think that I’ve had to learn way too many lessons the hard way. Then I realized: So has everyone else:
Everyone’s A Hero
I wanted to be a hero, and searched from cause to cause.
Every moment was a battle, a contest between right and wrong.
Anger ruled like the most powerful dictator,
Shaking my limbs, and contorting my belly.
All those I met were my enemies, forever in the hero’s path,
Small, stooped windmills fighting dragons of their own.
They too warred for humanity, for their children,
And their children’s children, for honor and renown.
To them I was the monster, smack in their Quixotic way.
Our faces twisted. Our voices bore a blade’s edge.
How we thundered!
How we roared!
Our might was awesome. Our clashes were the stuff
Of which legends were made.
Egos toppled like heads!
Ah, what a world! What a fine, bloody field! What a life!
One day, I tired of the conflict. My arms grew too heavy to lift.
My armor was dented, and there were holes
In it where my self showed through.
When I looked around, I saw that the others
Were in the same shape as I.
Ah, I thought, what a world! What a fine, bloody field!
What a life!
My weapons clattered to the ground,
And I dragged my carcass away.
Everyone’s a hero,
Just for getting through the day.
Larry Brody is the head dood at TVWriter™. He is posting at least one poem a week here at TVWriter™ because, as the Navajo Dog herself once pointed out, “Art has to be free. If you create it for money, you lose your vision, and yourself.” She said it shorter, though, with just a snort.