This.

It was a dream

in which my greater self

rose up before me

accusing me of my life

with her extra finger

whirling in a gyre of rate

at what my days had come to.

What, I pleaded with her, could I do?

Oh what could I have done?

And she twisted her wild hair

and sparkled her wild eyes

and screamed as long as I could hear her.

This. This. This.

-Lucille Clifton


JOURNAL PROMPT

Take a moment to reflect on the amount of time, energy and resources you may have spent hedging your bets, regretting the past, and dreaming of what might be. 

What do these three favorite past times have in common?

What results have they produced?

Add a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *