It is in the small things we see it.
The child's first step,
as awesome as an earthquake.
The first time you rode a bike,
wallowing up the sidewalk.
The first spanking when your heart
went on a journey all alone.
When they called you crybaby
or poor or fatty or crazy
and made you into an alien,
you drank their acid
and concealed it.
Later,
if you faced the death of bombs and bullets
you did not do it with a banner,
you did it with only a hat to
comver your heart.
You did not fondle the weakness inside you
though it was there.
Your courage was a small coal
that you kept swallowing.
If your buddy saved you
and died himself in so doing,
then his courage was not courage,
it was love; love as simple as shaving soap.
Later,
if you have endured a great despair,
then you did it alone,
getting a transfusion from the fire,
picking the scabs off your heart,
then wringing it out like a sock.
Next, my kinsman, you powdered your sorrow,
you gave it a back rub
and then you covered it with a blanket
and after it had slept a while
it woke to the wings of the roses
and was transformed.
Later,
when you face old age and its natural conclusion
your courage will still be shown in the little ways,
each spring will be a sword you'll sharpen,
those you love will live in a fever of love,
and you'll bargain with the calendar
and at the last moment
when death opens the back door
you'll put on your carpet slippers
and stride out.
YALL SOME SAD IGNORANT YALL GOTTA BE CRIP BANGING LIKE SOME REEL AMERICAN 14 YUNG CRIP
Thsee words struck deep into me...the measure of awesome poetry
" ...each spring will be a sword you'll sharpen, those you love will live in a fever of love, and you'll bargain with the calendar and at the last moment when death opens the back door you'll put on your carpet slippers and stride out." Hard and unforgiving realities of life... the inevitability... without compromise...loved it! Thanks
The first time you rode a bike, wallowing up the sidewalk. The first spanking when your heart went on a journey all alone. You described this poem's topic as courage. a fine poem. tony
The courage wants to rise like a hero even if it falls into the abyss of death. The fire of the last act informs us that the birth of courage is for immortality. This death is merely a physical departure. He will live forever in the struggle of this memory.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
IT SUCKSSS VERY VERY MUCH!