The courage of Bastian

The courage of one's convictions.
It is not enough.
Courage, if not accompanied by love
and pity
risks being the annoying murmur
of a blind man moved by shadows.
It takes Korean films, violent ones
to stun the memories and shames
of a past of ancient prudery,
resurfacing from the horror of puppet theatre,
and of cowardice of weak wayfarers
against the bullying of the alpha individual.
Remember the girl in the first row?
Your unrequited glances
and your marmot eyes
lit by big lenses?
The same ones you wore when you were panting
behind a ball hit without a hint of grace
by your pudgy, ungainly form?
That's the archetype that pulls you back every time
you pretend courage and stuff yourself with carbohydrates.
Courage to go to war would take
and to bless one's wounds,
but let's not kid ourselves,
it's fake courage,
unmindful of the lessons of Woody Allen.
True courage, who knows what it really is,
perhaps the consciousness of one's own strength
or perhaps doing what needs to be done
even knowing that it will make you suffer.
We will ask Sylvester Stallone.
In the meantime we keep asking ourselves
where to find the courage,
but above all what to do with it