A Reflection…

My favorite poem of all time is Harlem by Langston Hughes.

The cunning rhythm is heavy with the reality that dreams for the future are fickle and unpredictable whether chased or forgotten in an unforgiving reality.

Even when they are achieved, they manifest as both gifts and curses, revealing our authenticity, whether that be white, grey, or black.

With that said, are we ever alive if we never chase dreams?

My hometown is New York City, where dreams have the potential to materialize or dismantle in devastating ways. Homes are wiped out while skyscrapers are built taller. Rats and other diseased burden multiply in the city bowels while fine dining continues at the surface. Injustice plagues those who cannot afford respite, and rewards those who steal from the masses and call it wealth.

For me, Hughes’s poem serves as a form of memento mori, a reminder that we will die; thus, it is important to not let that dream defer. We should either live it or die trying, even while the realities of life can suffocate our greatest desires. It’s that moment when we realize we are officially adults making our own decisions.

Daily writing prompt

What’s a moment when you realized you were officially an adult?

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