https://everythingspeakstome.com/files/original/8abdb7228dc1d522702c2e7e614e47af.jpeg 41f9840a3b777215f318e4d368e41f1e Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource We Could Be Heroes Subject The topic of the resource Epics Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Text Please post your written submission in this field. The images you would like to include should be posted as attachments below. March 2023 I TO UNDERGROUND It began as just a wind; Flamed and deadly as hellfire, but wind it was And wind it stayed. A wind so harsh as to collapse the highest mountains And dry the vastest seas, It did. The sky soon the color of the sea, A blue green, shiny dark amalgamation of mirrors Indiscernible and undeniably of nightmares. The grass soon disappeared beneath the very foot of man And was none left for the latest generation of young. Man’s instinct to survive was tested. Resources were now scarce, food a mile away and more, Roofs, a luxury Pure water, a gift from the most frugal mother. Where else to search for saving but that from which we came? The earth, the ground: The Underground. For years Man dug Into the next generation and the next, until child was born without Murky green blue mirrors overhead, Shielded from ultra sunny rays of twisted sweet light. II BOON BORN Boon’s very first memory was of screaming; His own. He remembered the darkness of Mother’s grim birth canal, The darkness of the room he was pushed into, The darkness of Father’s embrace, The darkness. The light of Grandfather’s reading lamp, The light of his smile and cracked tooth, The light he spoke for and with and about: The “Old Sun” The “Great Ocean” Boon remembered bright eyes as Grandfather told him about his first time flying. Man used to fly, Grandfather’s Father flew once too. Boon wished each night to Grandfather That he could take him to fly Take him to a place even the highest Mountain envied So distant, so mystical, out of reach. But Men don’t fly anymore, he would say. Men are buried Men are lost down here, Boony boy. We are no longer free, Boon, But fear not. Freedom is in the Overworld still, In the “Great Ocean” In the flight of “Birds”. In here. Boon mirrored his lost grandfather’s stance, Hand over his heart Tear in his eye. He would find Freedom in here And out there. He would find the ocean and Grandfather. He would fly. III TO OVERGROUND For years Boon dug up in secret. There was no way to reach the Overground By walking or asking. Boon’s once skinny arms and legs had grown, And his height, he hoped, would soon follow. Each set of hours that passed was one set closer to Grandfather again; One step closer to Ocean. And on a dig like any other, In a dark grim canal like all the rest, Boon hit gold. Dust and dirt fell onto his hair and eyes closed instinctually. Opening them again, he finally realized An opening. An exit. An entry. A light. He punched through tiredness the rest of the way Caring not about his stinging eyes or heavy breath, Or bloody fists, But of what was above him, just within reach. The Overground. IV INTO DESERT Boon could think of nothing but to scream and run and jump. What he felt was unlike anything He’d ever known. He felt it deep in his stomach; Deep in his heart — here. He never looked back. Boon walked through the Overground Now vast and dry desert, Looking up at the green blue, shiny dark “Sky” As if it was a sightseeing tour of apocalypse Of something that was now nothing. Desolate. New. Boon saw only his Grandfather. He walked and squinted up at the Sun. The Sun. It’s heat surrounded Boon, drenching his matted hair, Beads of sweat fleeing the crevices of his body Stinging his eyes. Suddenly, a deep pain in his stomach. The wind crept over him but he walked still. Never look back. V KILLING MOON Walking, walking still, Boon could no longer feel his tongue or legs. The sun had left him in darkness In the feeling of emptiness and hunger and Thirst and restlessness. He missed Grandfather The gleam in his eye, the memory in his creased forehead, The confinement of life that kept Grandfather close. Boon looked up at the Moon Only a reflection of the Sun, but not a mirror, Its own glory. The wind picked up sand, sending daggers straight into Boons gray eyes. He stopped in his tracks. A noise A life Near death, It was clear to even the farthest humanity. He forgot his eyes, his pain, Running forward now towards the sound, Familiar but unrecognizable, A dying Animal With four legs, melted face, and beaded eyes. Hungry, thirsty, empty, Begging to move on. Boon could only freeze in the face of such misery, He held his mud caked head heavy, as he moved forward Trying not to look into it To see it. His stomach churned It grumbled It realized. Half buried, half living, Boon and Beast, Locked eyes. The struggle was brief, leaving both beings grounded Out of breath. Boon understood. The creature had chosen He wanted to be set free. He would be free. VI DARKNESS The Moon shown brighter than the Sun for a fleeting moment, Boon’s mind was ever present as he tore into the Flesh and bone Replenished by its newfound peace. Boon wanted more. He wanted to find Grandfather again, The animal, The Sun, The Ocean, Freedom. Not a moment of rest did he take For fear of losing his own time — His life. He kept walking Through darkness, Then light once more Through sandstorm not quite Hellfire yet, Through pain and numbness, fever and dearth He walked on. But Boon’s legs stopped in the desert sand Against his will, How long had it been? The sun had disappeared long ago and reappeared to repeat. He felt his eyes close His small pale body sway. He saw a faint outline in the distance Coming closer. Boon collapsed. VII FLIERS A warm soft blanket under the palms of his hands, Too fresh to be Earth. Too natural. A warmth surrounded him His body and soul, He felt himself He felt alive Boon opened his eyes to find faces looking onto him, Too close, he thought. They wore overcoats and thick discs over eyes, To protect from the hellfire dust winds, they said to him. They called themselves Fliers. They lived in the Overworld. Humans in the Overworld. Boon couldn’t believe it, It seemed always impossible. The Fliers told him that they grew small generations under the security of An old world “Airport”. They had dug for a water source, Made their own purity Made their own food, own clothes, Adapting to the harshness of post-destruction. Also Fliers once could fly. And Boon dreamed of only to fly. VIII FLY BOON At once, Boon had explained to the Fliers that he must Reach the Ocean. But Fliers knew what he’d hoped not, There was no way to get to such great mirrors without flying. It would be impossible for Man to try to walk; They had tried. They had tried flying, None had returned. All now were frightened… But fear not Boon said. Teach me to fly. I will see the Ocean. I will find Grandfather. I will find you all. Fliers young and tall came to meet the famous Boon, The Underground kid, fearless enough to fly to Ocean. With each sunrise, Boon was taught “Airplanes”; Was taught buttons and lights and safety. He lifted and landed naturally And felt his stomach jump and run with elation Flying was in his blood — in here. And the day had now come. Fliers came again to see him off With foods and overcoats and map they cried In awe or in angst Of fearless Flier Boon. IX HIT DESERT The airplane lifted smoothly as each trial, Floating now with “Birds”, Some colored, some black as the clear night, Big and small. Birds faster than the fastest human, Freer than an unbound beetle With wings stronger than mountains and even Hellfire winds. Boon flew For what seemed hours and hours, Smiling all the way, barely blinking As to not miss a beat of Earth’s beating soul — or what was left. Still the vastness of desert and hollowness of ground, But now the Sky within reach, a color indescribable So close but so far. So far too, now, is the Sun Leaving the Stars in peace to return in hours. Return to us To Boon… Thunder bellowed in the distance Echoing the heavy feeling Boon felt far under his skin Hidden, ever present The wind picked up and so did it to the tiny sands Hellfire Once so far down, now hitting the windshields; Smashing through Slicing into metal and flesh Forbidden red lights behind glass and wire now exposed The ground rising All so fast And dark now Boon caught glimpse of a Mountain in the near distance, Head towards the peak, he thought, Just a bit more Keep flying Fly Boon Fly Fly X TO FREEDOM Return to darkness. A stinging pain above his left brow A leg he could barely feel A shoulder pierced with — don’t look. Boon felt so small Weak He used what was left of his body to force open the bent plane’s door, And threw himself out. He caught his breath, Slowly Only now He was scared. He would die. Laying on his back looking up at the blue sky Boon closed his eyes. Breathe in. He saw a setting of darkness once more Run from darkness Breathe out. The sound of Birds surrounded him. The sound of crashing and cawing. Beneath his fingers, he felt a soft blanket Softer than the Fliers’, than that which was Man made. “Grass” He opened his eyes, strength returned, childlike. He picked at green Grass stained with his own blood. His eye caught a Bird take off and fly above and behind him. He heard it again, A crash Another Another He turned — cloudy eyes gleaming Running up the hill, standing at the top, Boon saw the Ocean. Mirrors shattered As the softness of the sunrise Reflected true beauty in the sky and true freedom in the water. Boon reached for his face: Blood spattered. Crying. Smiling. A Bird flew off above him towards the rising Sun And Boon ran for the Sea. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource BOON FLIER Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Mia Golburgh Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 03/15/2023