i found a book i used to write my dreams in
my hopes from twenty years ago
all forgotten until i flipped open the pages
and found myself gazing at a woman i used to know.
she dreamed of rock climbing and traveling
to Paris, the Brontë sisters’ moors, and Rome,
she dreamed of a cottage on a hill blanketed in fresh snow,
wishing one day she’d have a beautiful home of her own.
she dreamed of time slowing down for a kiss from her beloved
his ring around her finger glittering in the sunlight
she dreamed all these things and more
until reality swallowed every single hope in one bite
i should return the book on the shelf and pretend i never found it
for it’s too late for me to dream such silly things,
but she pressed the book to my breast and whispered,
it’s never too late to live the life you still believe in.
what do you dream of
when you close your eyes?
do you see a future filled with possibilities
or do you see a past littered with lies—
the ones you told yourself
when you thought no one was looking
the ones that shaped the way you saw the world
making you believe you didn’t deserve anything?
where did things change for you?
when did they fall apart?
was it when they said you couldn’t do anything right
or was it when he broke your heart?
was it the day they promised you the world
but never came back?
will you believe me if i tell you
that you can get yourself back on track
to a place where possibilities are endless
where hope and joy spring from deep within
one step at a time, one win at a time,
all we have to do is believe… and begin.
it’s one big exhale
this thing called letting go
punishing ourselves believing
we reap what others sow
every damn time
it’s all so unrelenting
the blame, the guilt, the fear
all of it, unforgiving
until the moment comes
when the armor we wear starts falling apart
revealing tired and battered souls
and broken broken hearts
it’s going to take time
to trust ourselves again
learn to love and laugh and cry
and live beyond the pen
Is there something you’ve always wanted to do, but never got around to starting (an activity, a hobby, or anything else, really)? Tell us about it — and tell us about what’s keeping you from doing it.
There’s a girl with dark hair that stands at the back of the line
back again where she started, only this time, she’s run out of time
for she’s made many mistakes, way too many for her to count
all because she tried to do everything right, even as the casualties mount
of the dreams that she’s given up, way too many to mention
of the dreams that she’s had to let go, just to avoid contention.
But were she to do it all over again, she’d move herself out of the line
out of the numbing queue before she runs out of time
she’ll write the stories yearning to be free even if no one will read them
she’ll do the things she really wants to do even if she’ll be condemned
for this time, she’s got dreams that she knows will last her forever
this time, she’s got her whole life ahead of her –
a life to do over.