You tell me 'be strong'
and I'm not sure what that means
Because I know what weakness means.
And I am all of that.
The deep holes- that I try
till fill with flowers and music
and stars, and sometimes
just tears, when nothing else will work,
keep me honest.
When I am weak,
I fall to my knees and hold
my chest to my legs
and let out the weakness,
while I pray to God
to hold me.
I think my strength
has been vaporized,
and this is a good thing,
because vapor goes into a million pieces,
just like my dreams.
They broke up
and fell around me into
small pieces.
Some of them I stepped on
and helped grind them into dust
where they returned to
rubble.
Some of them
were pretty, so I picked
them up and put them into
my little draw string bag.
I am careful what I place
in my dream bag.
It is pointless to
put dreams into a bag
that are from
faraway fairy lands.
I look at my dreams now
and hold them a while
in my tender hands
to see if their sharp edges
will cut me.
I know that some of those
dropped dreams
are meant to be picked up again
But they first must lay
next to rough stones and
be bathed in days of soft rain
to rub off the jagged edges.
When the pieces reflect
the light of some faraway
starlight or even a dim waning moon,
they will catch my eye
and I will, while wearing white gloves,
pick up the pieces.
If they still glow,
long after sun has gone,
Then, I will gently open
my little draw string bag
and place them next to my
other revived dreams
and pray that God breathes
His life into the dust that I carry
next to my heart.
This is touching. I sense guilt, remorse and a little bit of shame. I also feel some hope. It makes me wonder what dreams you destroyed? Why did you destroy them? And how do you know they are destroyed?
ReplyDeleteFirst, thank you for reading and commenting! It's nice to hear from one of my readers. So, this poem is talking about freedom from a life wishing things were different. Setting aside myself, my dreams, to try and please others led me down a dark path. Some of the dreams of my youth I am now pursuing...like writing, playing the guitar, painting, enjoying God's amazing creation. Some dreams must be set down...because they weren't God's plan for me. They were my will, not His. Denial falling away is beautiful, yet painful. But what is left, is hope.I have a different life than I ever imagined. Grief over lost dreams is hard. And takes time. I guess you could say, I'm in the "picking up the pieces" stage. I strive to be content right where I am.
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