They are hundreds. And thousands. And there are just a few. All of them have names. All of them are somebody's brother, lover, somebody's daughter or son, somebody's mother or father. There are so many of them. and still, each of them would merit a story if they survive, a song, should they die.
I can remember
Standing, by the wall
And the guns shot above our heads
And the shame was on the other side
Oh we can beat them, for ever and ever
Then we could be Heroes,
just for one day
They are in Libya, where there is hope for the first time in decades.
They are in Syria, where they were not standing up in a Day of Rage, but were killed on a Day of Dignity too long denied by those who put up their own images to be worshipped, small men and smaller minds, with cold hearts and colder souls.
They are in Bahrain, where they will not yield against tanks and guns and murderous men who only look like police but have long lost the capability to protect and serve.
They are on the Ivory Coast, fleeing the violence and trying their best to protect their familes, to get through one more night, through one more day, battling not only despair but death itself.
They are in Venezuela, where they whisper amongst each other, hushed words of resistance against a madman in a uniform who threatens their lives and livelihoods.
They are in Japan, where they walk into a reactor that reaches out to them, through poorly fitted protective gear as they work themselves literally to the bones, in an attempt to do the impossible, in an atempt to prevent the worst nuclear catastrophe of the 21st century even as their bosses show neither shame nor honour. Neither courage nor responsibility.
They are too many to name, and all of them give me hope.
That we are not lost.
That we as a species, that mankind is working towards earning our survival on this little world of ours that we have abused so much, that we have loved so little. But with each of these men and women out there, there is love. And there is bravery. And there is kindness.
All of them, deserving of their own story. Of their own song.
But I can offer only one. But it's a good one.
Ladies and gentlemen, "Heroes".... all of you.