By Rayanne Prince Chidzvondo
My heroes don’t wear caps or camouflage
Don’t snipe or hide behind mirages
Don’t shoot hoops in Nike shoes
Or praise Jesus while supporting corporate issues, condoning humanity
My heroes hold hands on picket lines and tear gassed streets
Wear blood red wounds from aggressive police
Sigh and cry for the innocent
Try and try against impossible odds
Sing songs of freedom
Not the military type but the kind that social movements keep bringing
And they are still bleeding
And they are still singing
And they are still marching
And they are still dreaming
My heroes keep
Carrying children from the wreckage
Running into burning buildings
Bandaging wounds
Holding the hands of strangers who are in danger,
Sheltering strangers, feeding strangers,
Caring for the poor,
Singing songs of love,
Putting down their guns and refusing to kill
While they pass out water bottles on the battlefield
These are my heroes
And they are still healing
And they are still singing
And they are still loving
And they are still dreaming
