Hero Poem by Denn Meneses

The circus was in town
the day he left.

He just slept.
Slept the sweet
redeeming slumber
of the innocent.
The blissful repose
of the wounded
suffering in silence.
With no sting,
and no pain,
only the melodious strain
of sighing.

He just wept.
Wept the dry piercing cry
of the unborn.
The voiceless wail
of a meek solitary lamb
staring at defeat
defenseless.
With no fear,
and no tears,
only incessant whispers
imploring.

Then he left.
Left for the journey
with no return,
only promises
unspoken
undone
unwoven.
Dreaming of things
never meant to be.
Gently holding on
to thin threads
of hope for eternity.

The last bugle call
has sounded.
The soldier falls.
The last twilight
has dawned.
The poet is home.
God touched his brow,
the hero succumbs.

One fine unforgiving day
clowns wore their saddest faces.
The big canvas folded
and the courtyard emptied.

The circus was gone
and so was he.