Courage
As I shelter in the safety of my house,
sanitizer at hand,
the mask ready at the door,
never venturing beyond the gate,
obedient to the dictates of the governor's orders,
I realize that this is not the only
compelling force for me to stay.
I realized that I am ruled by fear,
fear to fall ill and die,
gasping for air,
air that once was so taken for granted,
then parsed out by programmed machines.
In the depth of this darkness
I asked myself:
What is courage?
The courage to live another day,
face the future so daunting
in its uncertainty?
And the answer came with clarity:
If you want to know courage,
you have to risk things,
risk safety, self-interest.
You have to walk into the unknown,
speak up, shout,
offer yourself up in aid of others,
at the risk of your own life,
over and over again.
You have to forfeit conforming,
standing mute in the face of injustice.
I hear Ruth Bader Ginsberg speaking
to the Supreme Court
from her hospital bed.
I see Greta Thunberg standing up,
her small body shaking
with emotion, as she speaks,
undaunted, in front of the august body
of the United Nations,
I see Nancy Pelosi rising
in a sea of men in the White House,
facing down the Present of the United States,
with firmness and courage.
I wonder where courage went
at the Mayo Clinic
with none of the doctors speaking up:
Mr. Vice President, put on a mask.
We are about the safety of our patients,
which overrides all political or
publicity based consideration, they had said.
And yet, and yet.
Where did courage go,
being silent in the face of terrible non-medical advice,
instead of shouting: no, do not, ever
ingest disinfectant.
If you want to know what courage is,
you must risk things,
recognizing fear as a helpful caution,
and going beyond its paralyzing force,
breaking the shackles of the
mundane,
unleashing your heroic self,
in the pursuit of the truth.
sanitizer at hand,
the mask ready at the door,
never venturing beyond the gate,
obedient to the dictates of the governor's orders,
I realize that this is not the only
compelling force for me to stay.
I realized that I am ruled by fear,
fear to fall ill and die,
gasping for air,
air that once was so taken for granted,
then parsed out by programmed machines.
In the depth of this darkness
I asked myself:
What is courage?
The courage to live another day,
face the future so daunting
in its uncertainty?
And the answer came with clarity:
If you want to know courage,
you have to risk things,
risk safety, self-interest.
You have to walk into the unknown,
speak up, shout,
offer yourself up in aid of others,
at the risk of your own life,
over and over again.
You have to forfeit conforming,
standing mute in the face of injustice.
I hear Ruth Bader Ginsberg speaking
to the Supreme Court
from her hospital bed.
I see Greta Thunberg standing up,
her small body shaking
with emotion, as she speaks,
undaunted, in front of the august body
of the United Nations,
I see Nancy Pelosi rising
in a sea of men in the White House,
facing down the Present of the United States,
with firmness and courage.
I wonder where courage went
at the Mayo Clinic
with none of the doctors speaking up:
Mr. Vice President, put on a mask.
We are about the safety of our patients,
which overrides all political or
publicity based consideration, they had said.
And yet, and yet.
Where did courage go,
being silent in the face of terrible non-medical advice,
instead of shouting: no, do not, ever
ingest disinfectant.
If you want to know what courage is,
you must risk things,
recognizing fear as a helpful caution,
and going beyond its paralyzing force,
breaking the shackles of the
mundane,
unleashing your heroic self,
in the pursuit of the truth.
