A Dream Uncured

A poem on a theme

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I learned about Langston Hughes’ poem A Dream Deferred a long time ago. Just those words. That is all I needed. The possibilities (it’s about civil rights, I realize) of what they referred to is vast, and that poem was the inspiration for this one. A Dream Deferred is a masterful little piece of writing. Just three words captured my mind.

Can dreams become like a sickness? Can they harm us somehow? In today’s climate, the “you-can-do-it” spirit remains strong any place where advice is given. This is a good thing, right? Yes.

What happens to dreams that are deferred over and over? These are the types of questions I have, and I wonder if others can relate. Things we want can motivate us. Also, they can act like some heavy weight tied to our necks. This poem is about dreaming. As always, I do not claim to know even the basics about poetry. I hope you like it.

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What happens to a dream uncured?

rolling like pastures past a crooked stream

falling away from distant eyes

dried and withered past the sunny gleam

Where do dreamers finally go?

their wagers unreal to doubting minds

fragments of colors left behind

sharp and cutting like ice, not snow

What does passion finally reap?

quiet mutters from unfriended souls

warring, ghastly, ghostly haunts

strewn with relics, pretended cheap

What do they say of the dreaming dead?

all for nothing, and nothing left

newsmen did not record or recite

no reasons discovered for a blighted life

What of the living dreamers are left?

Confined to parlors treated and tossed

tested, rested, observed, and lost

by official thieves with forgotten theft

What of the dreamers, who halt and yield?

no burden no journey, no conscious burns

no star to keep, no path unkept

buried among the once-sacred hills

The dreams uncured return unkind

or fire the soul to the last resign

scurry seething, until a new birth

or reimagined defeated, with glories sublime

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THANKS FOR READING.