Heros With No Song (2WC)

How shall I begin? Where would I end ?

Many tribulations I thought I would not survive.

Yet, I still breathe and stronger for the breaking. But now...here...a mountain so high...

its peak soars high beyond my vision. You have asked for more than I have to give.

A fool I would be to think I am up to this challenge. For my Unsung Heroes there is neither time nor space nor energy in the quantity required to utter one word for each..

I can't tell you the name of the muscular young men who arrive at my curb long before I begin my day. I watch and marvel when, with one hand, they swing the refuse out my life and times. Nor can I tell you of the one who awaits the neighborhoods' accumulation.

Though, I am sure to be guardian of such a site did not exist in their childhood dreams.

Shall I name every person who has worn badge and gun, according to the law of the land.

Through the night I sleep, lost in dreams, sweet or ill, knowing they are within my reach, at my beck and call Whether fighting boredom, fear, ill-will, or evil, their pay is all the same. To even list the cities across this place, protected by women and man, names unknown, possessors of a quality not synthetically produced. One, that has them entering the deepest, darkest, blackest, walls of billowing smoke. Doing so even though their is no predicting the course and rapidity of fickle flame. Still, they are there for me each day.

What about the long line of ladies and men of the classrooms? Their conviction, to be sure, lies neither in visibility nor money, their enlistment is from the heart, as with all who have kept the chain of learning intact. I think about how many songs of tribute have gone unsung. No national award for each and every one. Their medals are cast in their own mettle.

And to even think of the peak of this mountain so high brings tears of sadness and pride. I stand in awe and wonder at the staggering numbers of boys and girls, from city and countryside, who have given their all or have taken that chance, to keep the wolves of the world at bay. Not only do I speak of this day and time. I speak from the minute men to those that died this very day. Nothing less will do than continuing and caring for the ideals they do daily serve.

Still others make our water flow, or waste they remove from offending our delicate senses. Unsung Heroes are all around, too many to name, even know. They grow our food, they distribute each and all of our needs. No. This mountain is vastly larger than me. Its peak reaches the height of the human experience.