I would like to have dinner with those we call brave,
Aragorn and Potter and Superman in the bat cave.
They'll be noble and handsome and will all be well-mannered and I'll be there staring,
Asking what matters.
How are they brave when they know how to act,
When evil arrives and is matter of fact?
When was the chapter or when was the time when nothing was evil and all was sublime?
When slowly one word just didn't land quite right,
A look went sideways.
No conflict,
No fight,
Just a long,
Slow sour that slid in and out,
A quiet snake of bitter with a sidekick of doubt.
Were they called to defend and put on their tights when nothing was wrong,
It just wasn't right.
Confusion would greet me from men with great hair.
They only raised arms when evil had flair.
When decay slowly enters and good turns to rot,
Would anyone see that true evil is not something we greet very often in life,
Yet TV and movies discuss it each night?
How are they brave when there isn't a foe?
Not a real one anyway.
They're just flash and all show.
There's room at the table for one hero or more.
They won't have a comic and they might be a bore.
But these are the heroes I want to know best,
Who see bad and good and still take the test,
Who stand up for themselves when memories blink of all the good times and make them rethink whether or not they deserved what was said or whether they shoulder the gone and the dead.
The heroes who believe that once things were bright and not all that's evil lurks around in the night,
But everything changes and not all the same way.
And once in a while you should stand up and say,
I don't deserve this.
You may think that I do,
That we were once perfect,
But that has passed through.
What we have now is no longer okay.
No more will I sit while you treat me this way.
Superman has a fork halfway to his mouth.
Aragorn's already on foot heading south.
That man roared off and potters wands in a wave.
But the rest,
They all know the true meaning of brave.
When logos and costumes and villains are bright,
Clearly defined and might's always right,
Nothing is brave.
It's rational instead.
It's not in the heart,
Just thoughts in the head.
When you're torn and you ache and you question and doubt,
Yet still make a choice,
Then brave is about.
We'll never be heroes or have our own shows.
No kids at Halloween will mimic our clothes,
But we'll change our lives for more than a flick,
A 40-minute episode that is over so quick.
We'll be left with the dishes while the rest save their day.
That's okay.
We need bravery of all kinds anyway.
