The Superhero: Day Two of a Poem a Day

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Today’s prompt is:

“Write a poem about a superhero coming to your house and confronting you about something. Somewhere in your poem, you have to state what your super-power is.”

Her voice began as a roar of ocean waves crashing
over a shore, and I was every grain of sand on that beach.
“Do you know how special you are?” She rumbled;
her voice a crack of thunder.

“Do you know how rare you are?” She continued.
Her voice dropped when she saw the tears form
in my eyes like liquid glass sloping down my cheek.

“You are a super-hero,” she said, her voice still loud
but no longer creating craters in my home.
“and though I hate to admit it, you’re a good one.”

I glanced around at myself.
No Gloves of Justice;
no Boots of Truth.
I was ordinary in every sense of the word.

Her eyes were dark, and she wiped at them
roughly. It wasn’t until then I noticed her eyes flood.
(Sure, I had brought a super-hero to tears,
but what kind of super-power was that?)

I stared at the hole she had created in my door,
the pivots in my carpet, and thought of her voice
trumpeting across the room like an elephant’s bray.

(Why was I so special? I had no powers,
nothing unique about me,
My parents weren’t vigilantes, nor were they heroes.)

“I’m just me,” I finally managed to squeak out.
“Just you?

You are kind, you are brave, you are selfless.
You speak soft words of beauty to others
when they need them the most.

You may be impulsive and do the wrong thing
at times, but you always make up for it with
great amounts of love and humility.

Your greatest act of bravery was also an act
of sacrifice. You gave up when giving up was
the hardest choice there was.
(You gave someone the gift of family
when all you wanted was to surrender.)

You persist in the darkest of hours.
You always believe in hope and give of yourself
until there’s nothing left to give.

Never say you are just you.
You are a super-hero,
so keep your chin up,
and keep changing the world.”

She snapped her fingers,
and my home was healed.
She snapped her fingers once more,
and I expected to be outfitted like
a super-hero (with a cape, an eye-mask,
maybe Gloves of Justice, Boots of Truth)
.

Instead, in the mirror, stood me.
The super-hero had disappeared,
but now, there was one within me.

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