Heroes
Weathered by the torment, he wraps his big hand
Around the glass. His memory is sharp
And so is his hearing. He listens
To the hardships of the modern-day heroes
As they share their woes
And seem to mock his presence:
"Hear this 'old guy'. Think your times were bad?
She was in the queue, I mean,
And she changes her mind. Wants to try the salmon
Instead. Expects me to hold her place
In the queue. Was I embarrassed?
Man, I just wanted to leave. Bad bad bad.
Expecting me to hold her place, in the queue. ..
It was endless."
'Endless' he remembers.
'The ragged and the sullen. The sobbing and the silent.
Queuing for gruel. Little did they know
It was merely fuel for a few hours
Until the herding
And the heroes went on:
"The kids were screaming. Noise everywhere.
Told my eldest to get off that damn computer
And help me make lunch...
Damn woman wasn't back from the megastore
So guess who had to sort them all out? Yeah, me
Running all over they were, screaming for their lunch…
Screaming..."
'The screaming was everywhere'
He recalls
'As children were taken in open trucks
And trains. Packed.
Plucked from their towns. Their homes.
Mothers and fathers,
Butchers butchered,
Store keepers, checked, ticked off and stocked
Barristers wrenched from old chambers
And moved
To new chambers'
His thoughts are interrupted
One hero brings his fist crashing down
Onto the table:
"A victim. That's what I am.
No, a damned hero. Things I have to put up with.
Things I'm expected to do.
A hero, that's what I am.
A victim. That's it. A victim.."
Old guy quietly sips his beer and places it down
He takes a faded photo from his waistcoat pocket
And leans it against the glass
He dabs at his eyes with a handkerchief
The noisy victims in the bar
Looking on
Seem nothing like the heroes
Behind the wire
Looking out
© Dave Hughes
