In the stories that I read as a child,
the leading character was always the hero.
And, I always imagined the hero to be tall and strong,
handsome and capable.
Maybe they were loud, brash and brave.
But they were always fearless.
Displaying outstanding courage in the face of adversity.
Seeking justice, going to war,
doing battle with those
who would destroy us all...
us being..
the little guy..

They were never the little guy.
They were always someone who I would never be.
To me well, I would always be the one getting saved
and not the one doing the saving.

And as I grew up I realised, to my horror,
that none of this was real.
Heros like this did not exist and that real life is most certainly not a fairy tale.
And some of it, stranger than any fiction I've ever read,
and believe me,
I've read some ****....

'Heros' like this will very rarely come to save you.
But, I will tell you something...
If there is one thing in life I have learned it would be that,
there are heros,
and those heros are in fact...
us.
The little guy.
Me
and You.

And... In our own stories,
we get to play the leading character..
but only if we choose to.

You see...
In fairy tales you do indeed have the fearless warrior.
They dance and sing their way through the stories,
where the village is saved, the wicked witch is destroyed,
were monsters are caged and villains are brought to justice.

But,
more often than not,
the real hero of those stories
is the little princess
who wields the frying pan.
The young girl from the village
who cuts off her hair
and defeats a whole army.
The girl in a small town
who loves to read
and shows real courage and tames the beast.
The boy who,
over coming his physical disabilities,
tames and flies,
of all things,
a dragon.
Showing the whole town he is indeed..
a warrior.

And I could not continue this long *** analogy
without mentioning the story of Frodo and Sam.
Through the mines of Moria,
across the dead marshes and lets not forget who defeats Shelob...
on to Mordor where they reach mount Doom.
Almost defeated, Frodo could not take another step
when carrying the ring,
it was just too much to bear
to finally put in the fire of mount Doom.

And then, even after being sent home,
it was actually Sam..
Sam the gardener,
Sam the loyal companion who faithfully,
with courage and determination,
carried Frodo and battles on to the end.
He,
Sam the gardener,
was the real hero of the story.

Time and time again it will be the little guy who saves the day,
time and time again it's the little guy,
the underdog,
the one least likely to succeed
who will be the true hero.
They will have been told they are not smart,
worth nothing,
are unimportant.
Sound familiar?

They will have been through many trails and tribulations,
many which could and in fact should
have brought them to their knees,
but it didn't,
it hasn't...

Because,
like us little guys,
they know what is right,
they know what is good
and they know that they must carry on
because,
if they don't,
well...
the bad guy wins.

And it is the same for us in our every day lives.
And in our own stories you will find,
you have the biggest part to play.
Should you choose to play it.

We face our own villains, demons and ogres.
For us these come in the form of anxiety,
depression, addiction,
abusive partners,
disability and a thousand other things
that can and does bring us to our knees.

And time after time you will show courage
when you think you have none.
You will be brave when you think you are not.
You will carry on,
even when you are face down in the dirt.
I too have been there,
many times.

And sometimes,
things are so desperate,
too hard for us to bear alone.
We can't be all that we want to be..
and so enters our story...
our friends.

In almost every story I have ever read,
in every moment that I thought I could not carry on,
there will be someone else
who sneaks up beside me...

And these will be our companions,
our sidekicks,
our friends.
They will be the ones who hold us up.
Those who will cheer us on.
Those who will mop our brow,
straighten our collar and send us out fighting again.
They too are the heros,
and where indeed would we be
without them?

So please,
take heart that we do not travel this journey alone.
We are not the only one in our story.
There will be others to help us along the way.

Some may stay for only a page or two,
some for a few chapters,
and others you won't be able to shake
for love nor money..

And so,
when things are at their worst,
when it is the darkest hour,
when all seems lost,
they too will be there,
at your side..
you just might have to write them in.

And they will be with you.
Being the little guy.
The hero.
Right along side us..

the epicenter

of hands shaken, drained

of blood--miserly grasps.

turning and cleaning a wheel.

a home leaving home.

passed up by a bus driver

blue at the collar like you,

pretending to respond--

but having a blowout with

schedule, while waving him

down for a solid already profiting.

despising the unrreconcilable need

that sustains him.

"an essential worker."

"heros transporting heros, right?"

understanding the de-servant

of karmic implication.

where rage should have been.

there was none, there i remained.

instead, the language of an

oldish latino man trying his best to

communicate with me.

telling me what he did ******

himself by leaving us out.

moments later he began to **** by

the right of the bus's glass waiting room.

**** splashing the pavement.

What's to do?

The little kids lookin and findin
And talkin to

Eachother

And the heros they always
Find

When they need to find heros

Or they make heros
And go on with what it is they must do

In order
To stay free
--

Life is simple
When ya quit
******* around
--
Ya do what ya gotta do

You become heros
Ya
Make heros outta eachother

Ya
Stay
free
.
Because?
.

Because ya gotta be free

it is said that
a prophet finds no honor
in his own country

hard truths
boldly spoken
are received as a
wretched cacophony
threatening to melt
the caked wax
blocking the closed
intolerant ears of
intransigence

Madiba
once found no
personhood
in his homeland

his people driven
from their land
by Voortrekkers

snortling Boers
gobbling the land
uprooting native
people from villages
they had occupied
since the dawn
of time

spilling Zulu blood
into roiling rivers
of conquest

meeting peaceful
petitions of the
aggrieved with
Sharpsville bullets
splattering
the blood of
innocents onto
hardscrabble roads

redressing crimes
against the victims
by corralling them into
denuded Bantustans
where rivers do not
flow, grass never grows,
game cannot graze;
only the dust doth blow

riddling the captives
with torments of
Transvaal Apartheid,
mocking the speakers
of mother tongues with
the fained eloquence
of bastardized Afrikaans

the dominion of the
oppressors, sanctioned
and affirmed by exiling
a people from their land,
outlawing their language,
dividing the nations into
a fallacy of separate
destinies where a forgetful
history blessed with amnesia
will anoint the conquerors
with the spoils of abundance
stolen from the vanquished

Madiba spoke of these things
and was awarded a prison
cell for twenty seven years

but the hostages of
a conquerors justice
remained destined
to be freed by the arrival
of an accepted truth
set free by the very words
prophetically spoken

prisons cannot contain truth
steel bars cannot imprison
the idea of divine justice

it slips through the smallest openings
like a wafting fragrance of the first day of spring

it saws away at the rust strewn steel bars
like the surest movement of a master carpenter’s arm

it melts the thickest links of iron chains
in the fiery forges that burn in the hearts
of all freedom loving people

the truth of justice
is born and takes flight
on the wings of history
covering the globes
cardinal ordinates

nesting in the most
humble villages
and mean estates
on God’s good earth

truth and reconciliation
can never be separated
planted together to grow
healthy nations and
communities of
trust and restoration

Madiba, you always
found honor with
the salt of the earth
the children of light
who seek to dispel
the darkness of
acrimony and
*******

we continue to
walk your way
guided by your
prophetic visions
we take the first steps
asking liberators to join
with oppressors, pairing
in a magnanimous walk
along wholesome pathways
perceiving the buena vistas
of reconciled communities
firmly established
on foundations
of peace, equality
and justice for all citizens

I caught a fleeting glimpse of Madiba
as he rolled by in the Canyon of Heros
showered under a June blizzard of confetti
and a resounding acclimation of love.

I was a plebe inhabiting a lower floor
Broadway office, yet my station blessedly
brought me closer to Madiba.  As he passed
I was moved by his miraculous smile and felt
the colossal reverberations of his waving arm
triumphantly hailing the sweet freedom of
liberation all hostages of feigned justice
exude in the vindication of divine justice
enraptured in the joy of affirmed truth.

Dearest Madiba
we are enriched
and blessed for
the time you walked
among us.  

You fought
the good fight
my brother.

Rest easy
for we shall resume
the climb to
the next mountaintop.

Well done Madiba
Godspeed

Rolihlahla “Nelson” Mandela
7/18/18 - 12/5/13

Ladysmith Black Mombazo
How Long

Oakland
12/6/13
jbm