The Impotence Of Superpowers

"All those things I can do. All those powers. And I couldn't even save him."
Clark Kent to his mother Martha while standing over his father's grave.
- Superman: The Movie (1978)

I've always thought it be cool to have superpowers. At least one would be nice, either flying or teleportation. Then I would never have to deal with a clogged I-70 inbound or having to find a parking spot ever again. Sadly I am neither an alien (though some think otherwise), have access to cool alien or future technology, nor am I a genetic mutant (freak perhaps, but not mutant). Maybe I have some traits that are like a superpower and I just haven't figured it out yet? I seem to have a superpowerful sneeze. With that I disturb many classmates and if I can aim my nose just right I almost achieve flight. Perhaps I have more than supersneezing.

I seem to be an extraordinary counselor. Everyone comes to me to listen to their problems. Everyone wants me to say some words or think up some plan that will fix their problems. Everyone expects me to have the handy knife, the extra floppy disk, the used book, the one strategy that solves their problems. What is that, some combination of foresight, wisdom, and articulation? That doesn't sound like a superpower of any kind! Yet it is a gift, a gift of trust from others and ability on my part. It is also a curse. A curse of time, energy, and frustration when I can't succeed. The twin edges of gift and curse. That does sounds like a superpower. Since supersneezing and supercounseloring are not a good combo to fight for truth, justice, and the American way I think I'll stick to smaller problems than invading alien armadas and foiling bank robbers.

I try to come up with the words that fix everything. They want me to say something profound. I have all this power over other people's worlds and they give it to me freely. Yet more and more I discover how truly limited I am. I can't solve some of the problems people have. I can't make everyone feel better who is in pain. When loved ones die, when jobs are lost, when love destroys itself, when dreams die: I can't really fix those can I? I have weak words of hope and encouragement. I have "I'm sorry" yet they're merely words offered for lack of anything better. Do such words offer strength to those in pain? When the world is at it's worst, do I really help at all? Do we lie to each other, knowing ultimately we're on our own suffering the pain of life's defeats?

Some say my words are powerful, yet I can't always counsel everyone who needs it. With such power I still can't save everyone.

Normally this would be the end of the story. Yet the fates decided to show me a different way to prove this point of inability. Sometimes Fate is very good at getting my Muses to sing to me in ways I don't appreciate. Recently a small dream died. Perhaps it wasn't wasn't even big enough for a dream, perhaps a mere hope. Yet such hope mattered to me as such hope keeps us alive. Now I see ashes from what could have been. Who counsels the great counselor? Who's there when I falter? In the end no one. Nothing I think of makes me feel better. All that power of words and I can't save even myself.