stories have a way of shaping us. well, shaping me.
what happens in the face of disappointing stories? i’ve heard all about a dream deferred:
does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
or fester like a sore–
and then run?
does it stink like rotten meat?
or crust and sugar over–
like a syrupy sweet?
maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
or does it explode?
but what about those stories that create a heavy load?
has my load really lightened? or have i simply ignored it for some time, hoping that it would subside and ultimately go away?
is life basically good with a few formative trials sprinkled in? or is it one of suffering made manageable by a few sunbursts of beautiful?
how do people move forward? how do i?
i’m ready for a different story.