Hero

A poem about heroes, written in sestina form.

What happens to the hero
when the war’s come to an end?
Where will he go and what will he do
when there are no more battles to fight?
And who will offer protection
from his often troubled dreams?

Many a young man dreams
of one day becoming a hero
To be the one who offers protection,
the one who always wins in the end.
But there is seldom glory in a fight.
Heroes just do what they need to do.

Against the odds is a lonely fight
and not at all like it is in dreams.
You can’t always choose what you do
and sometimes what makes you into a hero
is what will break your spirit in the end.
And no one will offer protection.

A hero is a symbol of protection;
your worth lies in what you do.
And you’re not a person in the end,
just something from legends and dreams.
There is no humanity for a hero,
only the fighting and the fight.

When you’ve won that final fight,
with none left to protect and no protection,
how do you end being a hero?
And what does a fallen hero do?
Legends must return to being dreams
and all things must come to an end.

How does the story book end
and who’ll help us fight the good fight?
Heroes ride into sunsets and dreams,
but will they still be our protection?
And what do forgotten heroes do?
Whatever happens to the hero?

In my dreams there is an end
for the hero and the fight:
Love is their protection, love is what they do.