Heroism

Heroism


Days with winter rain were endless, little snow
mother wasn’t coming home from the sanatorium,
I had read a book about cowboys, they were tough
and hanged cattle thieves. A thin rope, a thread
used to wrap parcels I threw over a bough tied it
around my neck and thought of all the people who
would be sorry when hearing of my demise; thought
of that brought tears to my eyes. Stood on a chair
jumped off immense pain, struggled to get hold on
something, the rope broke and I was reborn.
Told the kids at school, showed them red marks on
my neck, but they didn’t believe me; which taught
me that a daring deed is nothing if performed alone
and not recorded,