by Ivory Bennett

An old man once told me about the American dream. He was barefoot and shucking white corn.
His back was bent from years of hard work,
and his fingers read of routine and war. 

He told me about borders and bridges,
cultures crossing over one another.
He told me about jungles and judges –
the only difference between the two was one was of God and one wasn’t. He told me about loss and of love, and planting seeds that you may never see grow.
He told me about investments in self,
and investments in what will come long after you’re gone.
He told me to search for my purpose with my fingers and with my heart.
“The first step,” he said, “is to be courageous and just. That is the only way to start.” This man, he shared with me a dream deferred, as he looked me in my eyes.
He told me, “Take action, dear child, and arrive at these things you have heard.”


About octoberprojectmusic

Julie Flanders Marina Belica Emil Adler
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