Strength

Less frequently, I can't unscrew the lid of a jar,

But I can pull anchors with my mind,

I can lift a tank with my kindness,

I carry bags of shopping until valleys of handles forge across my palms,

I can smooth back together fractured fragments of disappointment with my bare hands,

into a passable form that parts oceans of lopsided smiles.

Sometimes I run marathon to-do lists that are double sided,

I put in the hours in the same relentless rhythm,

I can powerlift a room with my imagination,

I can thwart a villain with my assertive shrug,

I can walk in darkness over lego and not fear an evil cuss,

that loaded bullet is invincibly paused.

Often, I cry openly at beauty and triumph,

But I can cry out of one eye and dam it dry invisibly,

I can battle illness in an army of silent ninjas,

I can batton the hatches of my lip like a gale force wind that shuns hurt,

I can compliment authentically with my emotion sensing missiles,

that haul shipwrecks from the deep.

Always, my abs wobble at cake kryptonite,

But tomorrow's my titanium so it's alright,

I can bend and reshape bridges with my words,

I can hug like a forcefield that capes a super day,

I can nearly do 8 and 3/4 push ups and applaud everyone that is better or more,

Because my strength is silent and doesn't keep score.