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Intergenerational Dreaming

by Anonymous

art by Yawen Xue



after Langston Hughes

Hughes asked, What happens to a dream deferred?

When i can afford to shut the Alluring voids of my textbooks,

i ask myself this question, about your own.

Sírveme.

When i do, lifetimes of confinement, Silence, and anger, well

up inside me, and

Yo mando aquí, no tu mamá. Recuérdalo bien.

i can feel time sagging my feet, pulverizing my bones, weighing at my shoulders,

Did yours dry up / like a raisin in the sun?

And the only memory holding me up, lifting my chin,

¿Cómo no vas a ser la mejor? Es tu único deber. No trabajas.

Fueling my resilience, as a woman of color in spaces excluding me,

Or does it fester like a sore — / And then run?

Is your blistering back under the scorching, callous Sun

Your aching, tender Hands reaching for the next cantaloupe

No te amo.

Did it stink like rotten meat? / Or crust and sugar over — / like a syrupy sweet?

Te amo hija

i can’t help but think about how you gave up your dreams, to

Maybe it just sags / like a heavy load.

Mold my wings. I take all Your dreams with me,

Lucha por tus sueños.

Unforgotten. They lay safe in my arms; I will make sure to bring them to life.

Tú puedes hija.

Birth them into existence.

I am the seed that carries your love, your creativity, your tenacity.

My sweet girl, you are not forgotten. The dreams you whispered into the wind

Live here with Me.

Estoy orgulloso de ti mi niña

My dreams are not just my own, for my dreams carry my first name,

Or does it explode?

And the full weight of my lasts.

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