Ones self ungarded.
To be open like a vulnerable blade of grass, weed or flower between two pieces of sidewalk on a busy thoroughfare.
Open to the whim of the elements and the egos passing by
And choosing not to protect oneself from what may be. How many ceaseless hours are spent trying to protect the unprotectable from what may be?
Pain has taught us this and rightfully so. It has been etched on our souls by those we love, and through no fault of their own they have only passed on what they have learned, what they have been taught as it were by all those teachings that are silent, not having a tongue yet boom in the quiet of the tense house as a thunder that cannot be blocked out.
Bravery is not to fight. Fighting is the easiest thing and also the ugliest. Fighting is the doorway to the horrors of man. Protecting the castle and fighting to the teeth is second nature to man. There is no glory in that as glories go. Necessity maybe, glory no.
Bravery doesn't glimmer or shine in the reflection of those Hollywood eyes. Bravery is drab and plain, fresh out of pretense and camoflage, and doesn't mind being alone knowing there are far worse things.
Bravery is measured within the recesses of itself to it's own with a feel that is intimate and personal, known only to the one. Bravery that needs proving is not bravery.
Bravery just might be the end of war rather than the begining of it.