To Break Through The Wall
This morning the sun was a fingernail of fire above the treeline across the river. This poem was on my mind. Life is a siege, sometimes a pitched battle against the darkness that surely will envelop our dreams — unless you, unless I resist. As we grow older, it happens. The ancient contest between light and darkness persists, the shadow returns to dim my dream.
As I Grew Older
by Langston Hughes
It was a long time ago.
I have almost forgotten my dream.
But it was there then,
In front of me,
Bright like a sun,—
My dream.
And then the wall rose,
Rose slowly,
Slowly,
Between me and my dream.
Rose slowly, slowly,
Dimming,
Hiding,
The light of my dream.
Rose until it touched the sky,—
The wall.
Shadow.
I am black.
I lie down in the shadow.
No longer the light of my dream before me,
Above me.
Only the thick wall.
Only the shadow.
My hands!
My dark hands!
Break through the wall!
Find my dream!
Help me to shatter this darkness,
To smash this night,
To break this shadow
Into a thousand lights of sun,
Into a thousand whirling dreams
Of sun!
