Welcome 2018!!! You have been here for almost a week already, and I still find myself writing 2017 constantly when I am writing the date. So I love how a new year gives a fresh feel to everything and there always feels like so much freedom and joy in it. Mistakes we have all made can be left in the old year, and a new year is upon us. On that note, I encourage everyone who reads this to give themselves freedom and license to believe and hope for great things in 2018. Vision is important, and sometimes I can look to the past and lament (especially with “what might have been” or with my regrets), rather than look to the future with joy and hope. Let us all have more hope, joy, peace, faith, and happiness in 2018!!!
The hopeful girl stares down at the blank page
and ponders the fresh promise of a new year.
Sometimes, like a bird, she needs to soar out of her cage,
and stop being afraid of the unknown fear.
The hopeful girl jots down some poetry
as she ponders her resolutions of the new year.
She wants to embrace life, love, and be free,
and seeks lasting love to forever draw near.
The hopeful girl seeks fresh dreams,
passion, purpose, love, faith, and renewal.
Seeking the tarnish to rub off of her edgy seams,
her hidden desire is to shine like a beautiful, pure jewel.
Today as I was taking my office financial deposits to my university’s Cashier’s office, I passed a young woman with her daughter. The woman was wearing a t-shirt that was quite awesome. The t-shirt simply said “Dreams are not Illegal.” Yes! I love it! While I am not where I expected to be at this point of my life on multiple levels, I really need to make sure that I do not give up on my dreams. Sometimes our dreams take a beating in life. I can relate to the Biblical scripture in Matthew that talks about the winds and storms beating on the house. The house stood because it was founded on the rock. I like that literally and spiritually. Storms are tough. I am not denying that. But the simple message of that t-shirt was a beautiful reminder to me. Dreams are so important and we have the freedom to dream big dreams. We are only encumbered by our own doubts and when we let others (re: peers, co-workers, families, and society) talk us out of our dreams, belittle us, shame us, and essentially beat us down. I am tired of that. I am entitled to have dreams, and they can be as big as I want. You are entitled to your dreams too! Dreams are free! They are not illegal, and we don’t need to sell ourselves short. May we all dream big, and may the dying embers of dreams that we once held dear be re-ignited so that our passion does not die and along with it parts of our souls.
This poem is fictitious and inspired by the author’s imagination. The only exceptions are that the woman’s name “Maria” was inspired by the name Maria in the musical “West Side Story” (a musical that I like which has many good lessons). Second, the pink was inspired by pink being my favorite color, and also by my desire to somewhat personify the sunset. Thus, I gave the sunset some characteristics that (at times) I possess. Finally, while I have at times felt like the little sparrow, forlorn and perhaps somewhat broken (which I do not care to elaborate on), this did not inspire the poetic sparrow, nor did any other resemblance to another person, thing, or sparrow, living or dead. (Ditto for the little old man).
Hope: A Poem (The Beautiful Promise of Tomorrow)
The little old man
with a crooked back
and a kind yet wistful smile
gazes out at the shimmering ocean
beckoning to him in the distance.
Lost in thought
days gone by,
and a girl with a pretty smile.
“Ah, to be young again,”
he thinks to himself.
Youth is wasted on the young,
as the old saying goes.
He has no regrets.
The mistakes he made
taught him well,
still his heart aches
and at times
he is lonely.
He misses his sweet Maria
with an intensity
that sometimes awakens him
in the night.
She was his muse
and his joy
and his love.
His beautiful wife
gone six years now
(My, how the time seems to fly).
But, she was NOT his life,
yet she played quite a starring role.
A good distinction,
the man has always thought,
is that life should be shared
but never overtaken
the little old man’s reminiscing
by a tiny little sparrow
but yet brave
with his little broken wing.
The sparrow takes a little hop
along the glistening sand
and looks up with curiosity
at the little old man.
“Friend, I know how you feel,”
the man whispers with a conspiratorial wink.
Truth be told, sometimes the man
has been broken in spirit
and broken in his grief.
a tenacious, persevering will
helped the man fight on.
his frail body
was starting to feel broken,
as age took its usual toll.
(He was approaching age 90,
it is important to note).
The little old man felt an affinity
for the little sparrow with his little broken wing,
and it brought a second smile
to the man’s weathered face.
The sparrow brightened his day
and reminded him to never give up.
Slowly, the man’s gaze slide up the horizon.
A sunset was starting
to pierce the sky.
“Where had the day gone?”
the man wondered.
A hint of a beautiful, stunning pink timidly peaked
across the horizon.
The spectacular sight
of the blossoming sunset
caused a hope to spring anew
into the little old man’s heart.
Every day is a gift.
There is the UNKNOWN PROMISE of tomorrow.
Beauty can shine her brightest
even in the darkest hours.
Thus, whistling a cheerful tune,
(one I think anyone could recall),
the little old man shuffled off
with hopeful expectation
of a light brighter than any dawn
and the beautiful promise of tomorrow.