WHERE HAVE ALL OUR HEROES GONE?
Where have all our heroes gone?
Randolf Scott, Liberace, Rock Hudson, and
the epitome of perfection, Cary Grant¾
all seem to be made of different clay.
Is it coincidence that woman’s most romantic fantasies,
those who we have long adored from afar
are not women‑lovers at all, but are gay?
What does that tell us? That we can never
surmount the barriers against us?
That we shouldn’t care?
How many of us make that same mistake in life?
Falling in love with a need that consumes us.
Only to find it was window dressing
¾created from our own fantasy world, like
elegant body on an emaciated mannequin.
Do we cling stubbornly to our ideals,
like moths throwing fragile bodies against the window,
wanting so badly to be let inside without knowing why.
Do we instill more deceptions into our psyches, with the
bittersweet taste of ashes on our tongues
each time we swallow another lie?
How is it men and women are supposed to fit together
when there is such discrepancy
between what is real and what is ideal
and what we each have to work with?
As mothers, when are we going to teach our daughters
that dreams can never measure up to reality
and more important, teach our sons that
reality must be enhanced by dreams.
And yet we hope, we dream. Some of us give up,
some of us settle, some of us win.
Some are able to show our partners that when we win,
so do they.
When that happens we may be able to exist
in a world without heroes