I'd just like to share something that

iVillage Member
Registered: 10-05-2003
I'd just like to share something that
1
Sat, 11-01-2003 - 11:10pm
I am proud of with you ladies.

I love to write. Have written since I was a small child in fact. Since my accident, it is difficult sometimes to get what is in my head and heart messaged out correctly with my hands and fingers, so I tend not to do it too much. Short term memory and such, you know? Anyhow, while unpacking from our move, I cam accross this oldie from about 7 years ago. I hope you enjoy it - and feel free to pick it apart if you don't like it. It is a retype and I did a spell check on it, so please let me know if anything looks too out of balance. Guess it is kind of like allowing you all to see inside my soul a little.

TOMORROW’S DANCE

By, A. Corey

Can you help me see what I have looked for so long now?

Can you show me the world in a whole new light?

Was there ever an ideal world full of simplicity and it’s grand glory?

Was there a time when one’s own spirit drove the force of all men?

Is there a future for those left to cope with our past’s own’ tragedy?

Is there hope of man’s soul being again included in his life strategy?

I no longer dream in a world that as a child I was safe

And I can’t see a future to which I seek a place.

To the past I do look, will I find what the present so pitifully lacks?

And the children who follow us, so blindly into their bitter destiny,

All I have to offer you is my deepest condolence and my flowing tears.

I tired while I was here, I swear to you with all that I am,

To fight for the time of you, me all women and men.

Yet in a world of materialistic plight, I fear we have no ground to gain,

For they place rubbish upon it – hollow ground never to be touched again.

To the present I scream out my hate for the ugly in you,

How could we have failed over the years in so much that we do?

The bitterness that I have held within my heart for so long,

The days I taste the death of my soul, and cry, “It’s so damned wrong”.

Reaching and reaching, for I will never give it up

I hope and I pray in a world where prayer is long gone,

That someday the hopes of a new world will finally dawn.

Until my final breath is released and enters the air,

I will show the world I am here and show tomorrow that I cared.

I will cry for the world that I once dreamed of

I will decay everyday within this hardening of soul,

And I will fight for the life that I know is mine waiting.

I will believe in the tomorrow that I will chose to leave behind.

Can you hear me begging that you see our greatness in our insignificance?

Can you see me showing the pallet of many schemes and dreams that make ‘we’?

Will you chose to understand the pulse of our oneness and the unity of us all?

Will you just give up all hope and walk with the general masses?

I will not give up, and I will choose to life, and I do see and hear,

For I will fight for tomorrow, cry for today and miss the past I never knew.

For the record, this poem has been interpreted by many in different ways. Some believe it is in regards to life, other's to death, others hate, and others love. I had one tell me that it reflected upon one's realization that our lives have a baring on future lives and the quality thereof - even if that future life is lived 500 years from now. She was right on the money. It is about the guilt one (I) carry in my heart over the state of the world I live in and the nestalgia for the world through my childhood eyes. It is about graditude for those who have lived millenia before me and created the chain of events that led to my existance and the quality of the world that I exist in. It is confusion about those who do not act when they believe that they should, but fear doing so. It is about those who carry the 'here and now' mentality and don't see that the 'tree' they cut down will offer no shade tomorrow for the next person who lives in your home. It is about our effect on the entire world around us and the effect the entire world has on us. Hope is was a bit understandable.

A.

iVillage Member
Registered: 10-05-2003
Wed, 11-05-2003 - 12:38pm
Boo hoo, no one liked my poem. The artist in me is totally devastated! I will now throw away my pencil and pad, with the full knowledge that I am a wash out as a poet! I guess I will never be a poet lauriette, eh?