Dream Big

Dream Big

I was told to dream big.

Here I sit with an injured wing realizing what I want to be. But I question this thought as if I fabricated a mere fantasy. See I conjured a dream that may be too big. I want to be the key that opens all doors for the poor and see that they soar to a place where they won’t be judged for their taste. I want to copy all that’s good and great and paste in places where seldom comes a face that is willing to get down and dirty for a just and positive change. I want to be the spare change in the couch cushion. I’m always there if you go looking. Sometimes irrational thinking leads to bad decision making. We shouldn’t be judged because of a lack of wisdom. Inside us those demons are forever living, but it’s up to us to make sure we get the proper teaching. We supposed to be sistas and brothas, so why are we consistently dissing one another. Hateful and jealous. We weren’t born this way out of our mothas. I want to be the doctor to cure this shameful cancer.

I was told to dream big.

And here I sit with an injured wing realizing what I want to be. But I question this thought as if I fabricated a mere fantasy. See I conjured a dream that may be too big. I want to be the soil from which life grows even through turmoil. I want to be the pure spring water that you drink blissfully through your soul in hopes of cooling off even though you know as early summer mornings go, it only gets hotter. But don’t let that get you down. Because for you, I’ll be atomic super glue, I’ll stick around. When you find yourself lost, I want to be the reason you’re found, and you know what, at no additional cost I’ll be those nice and cozy warm, wool socks that keep the frost off in this cold cold reality. It’s sad to say people still discriminate because they are of a different shade. Black, white, or grey, we are the same race. Human. We are composed of the same bones. Born with ten fingers and toes, yet we hate because of different skin tones. Many of us come from broken homes while others are raised by BOTH, a mom and a dad. Potty trained on a toilet made of gold. Born with it all and wouldn’t even give up a quarter of what they own to help support a mother of four struggling to survive. If it wasn’t for the street light the whole house would be dark at night. I want to be the lens that keeps her dreams for her babies in sight. I want to be the strength of the shield that keeps the people safe in the fight for life.

I was told to dream big.

And when my wing heals, I will take flight to protect the people and bring them to the light because their pain is one I feel. As an angel, I have an obligation to fulfill. I’ve made a deal to rid the earth of all that’s sick and ill. With all my will, til the day comes that I have had my last meal, til my body forever rests still, I will. Dream big. I will.

Comments

The Scholar

I had just re-injured my shoulder, so this poem was written while I was in a sling. Get it... Sling="broken wing"

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