Poem: Hero

A poem for a particular person, who probably never truly understood how I revered them.


Did you ever know that you’re my hero
and everything I’d like to be?
A line from Willie that stops me in mid-stride,
like a known face on the street,
smiling, carried in my back pocket, folded
Opened when my faith is shaky,
confidence coming undone at the seams

Do you know you get me through from there,
and does it matter, the knowing?
What is a hero, but a reflection, an image
of ourselves as we would like to be
The hidden, drowning parts of me are all
there shining, polished and smoothed out,
by the lady who taught me most of what I know

So if there’s anything to see in me at all of love
or understanding, some residual value
It’s across my shoulder, where a woman stands,
who raised the tattered flag that’s me
Life’s a battle and when the smoke has died away,
the bodies are counted and armistices signed
I’ll know, they needn’t understand how far you carried me

Did you ever know that you’re my hero
and everything I’d like to be?
Probably not in your nature to see yourself that way
My designation not yours, so live with it
After all, it’s only you and I need know the terms
of how we recognize each other in the dark
And that’s my vision, so slip it on and feel the warmth
Poetry Collection: Corner of My Mind
This poem is included in
Jim Freeman's
poetry collection

available here in print
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