They work their butts off to save many lives as they can!
Super heroes are among us-
Ready to provide health care service everyday~ no matter the season, weather, or crisis!
Thank you to all healthcare workers for everything you do!
24th Oct., 2020 Sat’rday.
My sister is a hero
when we see that word we often think.
Gosh, they're great, and not like me.
But anyone could be.
The girl was eight.
The toddler was three.
It was a cool November,
with a dog and a pool.
It all went wrong.
The three you year old little girl,
Oh so good at climbing,
Climbed over the rail.
The puppy was overenthusiastic,
as puppies tend to be.
He was stealing the eight-year old’s jacket,
Her only defense against the cold.
From behind she hears a slash,
The toddler had jumped in with a crash.
The little girl wouldn’t swim,
and the ice was so thin.
So the eight-year-old,
She didn’t even think,
She jumped in as well,
surrendering her jacket.
She pulled the three-year-old out.
They get inside,
Wrapped into blankets,
and warm baths.
Both girls were safe at last.
I have been asked before
a million times
Who is your hero?
The first day of school
one year, and the next,
my teacher smiles
and places in front of me
the student survey with the
And what do they expect me to say?
For me to recount the tale, perhaps,
of the man who had a dream;
or of the singer who was dragged away
from hers at twenty-two;
or of my parents, one of which had
driven me that morning,
drives me everyday;
And every single one
is an answer, and they're true—
but what even is a hero,
A role model;
someone with the superpower
to speak and be heard,
to make the difference?
As I walk my halting pace through life
I am surrounded by a forest of trees
that tower far above my four feet eleven inches
while I can only stand and marvel
at the sunlight filtering through the leaves,
crane my neck
to watch what I cannot reach;
The woman who hid her students in the cabinet
and took the bullet;
the stranger who told me she liked the pins
lining the side of my backpack;
the girl who stood and sang on a stge
having crawled out of the blackest Pit;
the stranger who tole me my mile time
was pretty good
and gave me a smile
that dragged me out of the ocean
my mind had become—
And those bullets, the bang-bang-bang of gunfire,
they spray without discrimination—
no hesitation, even for heroes;
But the trees are more bulletproof
than any titanium-gold alloy or metal suit;
I see the glint of red-white-and-blue
off a shield in my teacher's eyes, too;
And I can't think of anything more a superpower
than the way that new sprouts flourish
when the forest is singed clear
and the last dregs of smoke disappear
over the horizon.
There are 7.6 billion trees—
and each one of them
has grown at least one shiny leaf;
yes, even the ones burned and flaked by hatred—
And when I look up at the great
bullet-ridden canopy so high above,
my greatest wish is that,
though my height has remained the same
after one year, and the next,
I could grow that final inch
and make a leaf of my own
to shield those below
and drag them out of their oceans,
give them the seeds they need
to have their own dreams.
Amidst ignorant screams, someone we long for
Not too perfect, we imagine being him or her
Nor too flawed, we reach for light in the dark
A rapid rise from humble, hard circumstance
With booming voice to quiet evil and inspire love
And a heart beating with the passion of a nation
Come to us, your moment is now