Ordinary Heroes


I know a man, with hands like destruction and eyes like forgiveness. Born and raised in the backwoods of the low Carolinas, he goes to church every Sunday, drinks Whisky every Saturday, and carries his heart in his back pocket and his wallet in his front. Be the first to cuss you out and the first to give you the shirt off of his back. He wears sweat like armor and dirt like war paint, this is almost a metaphor.  Any given day he has three dollars in his pocket and thirty in the bank, but still finds the mercy of God in his son’s laughter and his daughters smile. Works from sun up to sun down fixing broken cars and broken people, but he is no hero.

I know a girl, who wears her smile like an accessory, has a spine carved from marble, and uses her tongue like a whip leaving lashes on the insides of mouths. Her skin reeks of sad violinist with half broken hearts and jagged memories. Yes, she’s been hurt before. Others spoke words that cast shadows so dark she couldn’t find her own voice anymore, but with the blessing of God she speaks words that move something inside of you. Words that build nations at the bottom of her throat, but she is no hero.

I know a boy who knows nothing beyond Friday night football, or Thursday night work outs. His shirt is so soaked with sweat he’s not sure if it’s holding him back or holding him together. He is the epitome of “something from nothing”. He has had to swallow his pride more times the he likes to count, and each time it was hard to swallow. Something about it makes it sit heavy in the pit of his stomach. He teaches lessons with his fist and preaches God with his eyes, but he is no hero.
They are no heroes. They are ordinary people, with ordinary lives. There are no fairytales here sir. They have a heart to good to be evil, but past to dark to be anything considered holy. They are not perfect. They are broken, misshapen, with edges to jagged to fit, but when the love you they truly and unconditionally love you. I’m not saying that they’re heroes, but when the hug you, you can almost see the cape flying in the back ground.


Grant-Grey Porter Hawk Guda

Powerful expression! 

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741