Dream of Hope.

 

They say that dreams are meant for all,

Yet tell me I should never call—

Upon a wish, upon a star,

For dreams like mine won’t go too far.

I held my dreams so fierce, so tight,

Like cotton clings to thorns at night.

But now they whisper, “Let them die,”

And never dare to question why.

What crime is there in dreaming high?

What fear hides deep within their sigh?

Do they dread the heights I'll claim,

Afraid they'll never know the same?

I’ve fought, I’ve struggled, I have bled,

Yet they would have my dreams lie dead.

They say, “A woman should know her place,”

Four walls—a cage she must embrace.

But when the Maker shaped this land,

He placed no chains upon my hands.

He gave me breath, He gave me fire,

The right to dream, the heart’s desire.

Why then must my sky be small?

Why must I kneel when others stand tall?

Why cage my wings, deny my flight,

And steal away my burning light?

If they can lead, then so can I.

If they can rise, then why must I—

Be bound, be still, be told to wait,

As if my dreams must suffocate?

Trust me once, just once, believe,

That I can build, create, achieve.

My dreams can shape a world anew,

Where skies are wide, and hearts are true.

I brought them life, I raised them strong,

Yet in their eyes, I don’t belong.

Still, I will rise, I will proclaim,

A woman can dream—

And dream she shall.