A Poem – “A Hero’s Arrival”

A Hero’s Arrival


Pit me as having made landfall

Upon ground that isn’t mine.

I don’t feel at home, don’t get it

Heroes don’t fight with weapons or words.

It’s like a flower, splitting the soil,

Like a turtle, leaving it’s shell

It comes through and exists plainly

Because that’s what it was supposed to be.

But now, now that we need blossoms,

Heroes are stifled, have to create anew

Because rationalism will tell them they’re limited

There are limits to life and heroes sense them too.

Comic books can’t be their reality—

Not the true heroes of this world.

Heroes love with a patch of dirt

Crusted to their shoulders like dried syrup.

And the love falls off as they stretch their skin

And we feel it because we were waiting

Waiting to feel that very dirt—

Just dirt, but refreshing because it’s everyone’s.

But the heroes can never stand out through set routes,

Can never show the world their love

Using means of doing so that already exist;

Not exactly anyway—they have to bring something,

Something like a frozen stone,

Bring it and then show the world that a fire can be put out

With nothing but a rock.

Seeds have sprouted

And I hope there’s nothing in the way.



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