What happens,
after all, to a dream deferred?
…Is it buried, like a flower on a coffin?...
Tearful,
I get up from my dream-garden,
gathering my favorites like flowers,
and take them all to bed with me,
arranged around my body like pillows,
supporting me, comforting me.
I lament that they can never be more than this:
sentimental support in a lonely time.
No more…
That’s how I am buried, then,
with pillows of old, befriended dreams
around me, a coronation
of blossoms, best for grieving.
Like flowers, they were gathered with joy.
Now, like flowers, they are buried with sorrow.
©Ellen H.
...The above is an ode, of course, to a famous poem:
A Dream Deferred
by Langston Hughes
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
