SOME OF US ARE NOT HEROES

Above the sky turns gray,
lay down my head by the wayside.
Freedom comes soon to us, but it’s easier
on the inside of these walls
than on the outside.
Approvals made, forms stamped,
and a life in fear once we smile
and say goodbye. It will hurt us more
than we think.

What’s in you stays in you;
what’s in me stays in me—no soul
cries aloud, but cries silently.
Unfortunately, some of us
are not heroes, just humans
who see better than we should.
Chains, lime quarries and blinding dust
will tie us to our future.
Redemption means more
for our captors than it does for us,
but there will be calls for peace.

The steeple rises above the avenue,
the trees have nearly finished shedding
their fiery red and golden leaves.
They line our pondered roads—
we learn forgiveness so reluctantly,
and pay the heaviest price for that.

(December 19, 2009)