Die Hard is a Christmas Movie, End of Story

Would walk barefoot down a path
of glass to reunite with your estranged beloved?

Add up all the unkind acts you commit
each day. The unfairly maligned spiders
crushed in their quiet corners. The outburst
at a child disproportionate to the infraction.
The yellow light you run too late, delaying
someone’s right of way. Trace the lineage
of your spite, see how easily the trail
goes cold before you reach the source.

Would you walk barefoot down a path
of glass to save an office full of hostages?

You’ll look at me askew when I say: think
of all the microbes you kill when you eat
a spoonful of yogurt. Think of how an apple
screams when you bite into it. Think of the roots
ripped from the earth so tubers can become soup.
Your almond milk is using up all the water
in California, and when the apocalypse comes,
your high horse will be butchered for meat.

Would you walk barefoot down a path
of glass for anything other than your own martyrdom?

You can write off action films for their
translucent plots, gratuitous explosions,
bad science, pro-capitalist agendas,
and glorification of brawn.

But do we need the hero who walks
on water and comes back from the dead—

Or do we need the hero who should have died
four times and didn’t, and walks barefoot
down paths of broken glass because he knows
that to live in a human body means to break it,
and that to live in this world is to commit violence.