I was thinking about MLK Jr today and suddenly found myself scrambling to dig out the notebook I kept during treatment.
I was reminded that I, too, had a dream:
I am saddened to recognize the lack of progress I’ve made in reaching this vision of recovery.
I am saddened that I have spent the past months watching as my hopes dimmed into a hopelessness.
Yet, I am grateful. Today I remembered that I had a dream.
The reality is, it’s still my dream.
As I read over my journal entry, I suddenly recalled that yesterday the poem “Harlem” by Langston Hughes ran through my head. (I was vacuuming my closet if you want to how random this was. #IgetitGod.)
What happens to a dream deferred?
Maybe it just sags like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
My deferred dream, my hopes have sagged into the heavy hopelessness that’s been weighing me down.
I want my hopes and dreams to EXPLODE with renewed fervor. I want to be on FIRE again.
Maybe deferred dreams can turn into an explosive, passionate drive.
It could go either way. I think it’s up to me.
