What Makes a Hero...

What is a hero? Is it a man behind a mask with bad memories of his past?

That urges him to fight the night with the light of justice…though it beams so dim,

In this world of sin…is it a man of steel, a cape crusader, a vigilante,

Though rejected by society has made it his priority to save his world from what makes it?

The many souls that give off the sad sighs, as they put on their masks of concealment

And strap on the power between life and death like they have the right to dictate and eliminate

Those who try to help…those who try to make the world a better place.

A hero doesn’t have to take the violent route. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.

This is not truth-this shouldn’t be the way, the ethical code, your moral conduct to abide by. Fighting fire with fire till the day you die and you will be forgotten;

for no one wants to remember the blood you’ve shed, even if it is for the good of mankind.

How could I say such things you ask?

Someone who stands in front of you who chooses not to associate with beatings and blood stains from the fists and guns, that give off a big bang signaling the end of life?

There was a man I once knew, a joyful man who stayed true,

To his belief in Christ who symbolized life with death,

putting his family first, not treating them worst

as teens of society would happily due if it meant anarchy.

One day he came home from boarding school, surprised his sisters with his presence, henceforth to make them happy he took them to the park to play on the slides, swings,

the things that would bring smiles to the girls’ expressions of loneliness of not having big bro.

But big bro had to face a test of his love, as an adult of desperation came to the young sister’s face and demanded the only way he could make ends meet.

She refused, but he wouldn’t accept the truth, for since he was bigger

He chose to pick on the weaker, to let fear consume her and give in.

He pulled out his gun, ready to kill, with no intention of turning back for he acted like a child, not getting what he wanted.

He was ready to fire, gun point-blank, as the sister’s soul of seeing tomorrow shrank.

But big bro wouldn’t let such a thing happen. How could?

He stepped in front of the man with a face without fear as anger swelled in the robber

Who let it out with one…single…bang.

That sound rang, as the bullet in his chest brought big bro to rest as he fell.

But before his spirit gave way, he smiled with his final word that brought the sisters to tears:

“Amen.”

That is what makes a hero.

Not muscle not power not fighting from dawn till dusk fighting the repetition that knows no end, but repeats again and again.

But being selfless and courageous enough to do what millions would shy away from…

even if it meant to save one.

Like my Heavenly Father, my friend was willing to lose your soul to save another.

A hero’s death, by a loving big brother.here)