My Heroes Are Unknown

Who gives you the strength to rise in the morning

and do what must be done?

Who are your heroes, your myths?

My heroes are unknown:

stars without a stage,

saints without a halo.

They are the parents who hide the sweat of their work

and stifle their tears in the silence of the night,

then wake before everyone else

and prepare breakfast as though nothing had happened.

I am a fan of the losers more than the winners.

I love the ones who tried and were not chosen,

the many Sisyphuses who roll the stone

up the same hill every morning,

knowing it will fall,

and rolling it still.

My heart is filled with the sighs of those

who have not found the companion of their lives,

who set the table beautifully for the lover,

who wait and wait,

but no one knocks at the door.

Still, they light the candles.

Still, they keep a place for hope.

Still, they refuse to let loneliness

make their hearts inhospitable.

I am inspired by those who do good every day,

and no one sees,

and no one claps —

those whose names will never be written in books,

but whose kindness keeps the world

from falling completely into darkness.

These are my heroes:

the tired, the forgotten, the disappointed,

those who carry invisible wounds

and nevertheless choose gentleness.

They rise in the morning.

They do what must be done.

And perhaps, withou

t knowing it,

they are the ones who give me strength.

Fr. Mirko Integlia