Where are the so-called brave?
Not the brazen boobs
who crow for cameras
And proclaim this land as theirs,
ripe for reclamation.
Nor the type who tirelessly tweets,
Repeatedly and reprehensibly
trolling and trending,
Manufacturing anguish and outrage
Out of dreamed-up dilemmas.

But rather the breed that stands alone
Tall against plastic peers
Who have long abandoned honor,
Now displaced by forced fealty.
The brave are fierce and few,
Valiantly facing fiery gust
With grit and gumption.

“I would rather be a little nobody, than to be an evil somebody.”

Abraham Lincoln

July 1, 2025 Update

I wrote the poem on the left three years ago. I believed, maybe foolishly, that bravery would take root. That someone with integrity would rise up and say, Enough. But now it’s the summer of 2025, and what do we see?

Immigrants are being stripped of due process, treated like threats instead of human beings. Political opponents have been murdered, and the public barely reacts. Firefighters, the very people who run toward danger, have been ambushed and killed. This is not normal.

The government continues to hand out tax breaks to the ultra-wealthy, while the most vulnerable are left to suffer. Fairness is no longer even part of the conversation. It’s a feeding frenzy for the powerful, and everyone else is expected to be quiet and grateful.

Worse still, we have now handed near-absolute authority to an aging narcissist. He demands loyalty, not justice. He feeds on attention, not truth. And somehow, this is allowed to continue.

Where are the heroes? Not the loud, performative ones looking for applause. The real ones. The ones with power and principles. Where are they now, when we need them the most?