I can no longer await the dream,
that hope-filled place of freedom
and joy defined and combined
with the dawn of each new day;
only, to return battered
and bloodied by sundown.
Each night’s dream dies
in the too-bright sunrise.
When a new century dawns
new hopes also arise
with new dreams to surprise.
New fears replace the old ways,
dying before our eyes;
and darkness falls, dreamless.
We think there is no new dream
to be found in the new landscape
unfolding before our eyes each dawn,
hidden in the darkness of night skies.
Generations of dreams do not fall behind.
They circle us and curve around time
to revisit the place they first stood sublime.
If only we can recall our history
can we up-end the fearful mystery
of all that is new, never before seen,
difficult its truth to find,
to mend the old dreams ripped apart,
and cure the scars on every heart.
I can no longer await the dream.
I must seize each day that dawns
in this new place,
in this new time.
With dignity and grace and memory,
clothed in all my history,
I awake with new dreams
of more joy and broader freedoms.
I take my place amid the truth of this new time.
and make the dream of this ,and each new day
mine.
annarino writes 