I am so out of shape.
Once nimble and quick,
my arms outstretched to carry the world,
my legs strong and sinewed to travel anywhere.
My face ready to butt in everywhere.
Then, as sudden as being fired,
my powers disappeared.
I can no longer catch those I love from falling.
They must learn their own responsibility
No more lending a hand to prevent accidents.
Others must use caution, be alert, look both ways.
Although I tired of always lifting people up,
I did it day after day without complaint.
Now it is on their own merit they stand, or not.
Always pulling snobs and bullies
off their high horses to level ground,
constant patting of backs ad-nauseum,
catching what others spill and drop without care.
No more! Let them tend to themselves,
grow up, fess-up, man-up, I’m so fed up
with having to mop up messes of clods.
Then too, I cannot collect the balloons
that escaped the child’s hand,
or wipe the tears of those far away.
Loss must be learned to appreciate.
Gratitude often grows from overcoming pain.
Maybe losing my powers lets me learn too.
I have a life of my own to live.
